I dream about it. I have been dreaming about running.
I am not a runner.
My throat dries within a few minutes of running.
I have a love hate relationship with running.
I want to be able to push myself to go crazy distances, but I don’t really want to go run.
My favorite places to run are the trails. I feel like I am actually being human. Nothing but the beaten path. Humanity hasn’t put permanent structures and artificial lights. Instinct is what keeps you balanced; not a flat surface. Trees branch out because they don’t give a shit about your trail. Little critters race across the path before you and somewhere deep in your croc brain you are contemplating how you would fight off a mountain lion. You take a deep breath and look to higher points of the mountain, money doesn’t buy this, the willingness to go does. You have accomplished nothing but have felt alive, human, purpose and you escaped the false reality that makes the world go around.
I have been dreaming of running a foot race in the mountains. I am not the leader, I am not behind, I am just behind two guys keeping pace.
I have been dreaming about running.