Monday, September 9, 2013

Long Run. One Hour and Twenty Minutes. Fort Boise.

Humanity is one of my favorite aspects of running. I have spent much of my life living alone and reclusive; enjoying the typical introvert lifestyle. In stores, I avoid eye contacts with strangers, do my best to to be concise in social exchanges and feel a comforting sense of relief when moving on. However, whichever element that may cause such a switch in perspective (extra vitamin D from the sun, increased levels of serotonin which up my happiness, or that all encompassing runner's high that leaves me in a state of momentary awareness) when running, i love to return smiles from other trail runners, love the feeling of connectedness as we both work tirelessly to overcome some personal goal, love seeing that I am not alone in enjoying all that movement has to offer.

Drydaho. This high desert sees little rain. Dried sage sprawls across the miles of rolling hills. Much of my state looks this way.  Endless lifeless miles. We shouldn't really live here. This city shouldn't really be called the city of trees. It is in hospitable with its wild seasons of despair. If I didn't love it so much I'd leave. Find a place that calls itself temperate. Find a place willing to host more than the arid hanger-oners. Perhaps that's the secret to most things, hanging-on. In consideration of the natural order, those who get ahead are less likely to be defeated by the meek. But here in this land that I never really wanted, I can see the value of persistence in survival. I run in this desert and spread witness of the efficacious nature of never staying down. I will ape them. I will remove the excess from my veins, turn hope to the coming drought, and never again push for the greenest pastures, streams that feed fertile planes.

I hate to admit it, but perhaps this is the home stretch. I've followed many roads to many places. I've taken tea with tramps and nomads.  Shared wine in the living plazas where queens beheaded men and great artists staged their escapes. From here all things must wander. There is no station for those that believe tomorrow isn't decided, that time still ticks, and love lost today is easily gained tomorrow. My heart doesn't beat any faster. Not anymore. I've trained it all these years to be predictable, dependable, to be the reason for falls platonic embrace.

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