A solitary black dot is moving slowly across a
vast, white landscape.Move in closer
and you’ll see the dot become grey and grow appendages. Now it’s starting to look like a virus attacking
a white blood cell through the lens of an electron microscope.Go ahead and get closer still. That’s
actually a bird’s eye view of me
running through a farm field in late December.I’m trudging in 12 to 16 inch deep snow so quickly that you’d think wolves
were on my tail.I suppose I’m trying to
flee from mortality, not ravenous beasts, for I’ve resolved to maintain my run
workout throughout the throes of winter.I need to do something to
counteract my sedentary lifestyle. Besides, I have so much energy inside me sometimes that I feel as if I am about to burst open. There’s a fire inside my head, a passion, a
desire, for something unattainable, indefinable. That sounds weird, I guess, or
melodramatic.In
the distance cars pass by on a country road.I wonder what the passengers are thinking: either I’m crazy for running
in 25-degree weather or I’m getting a great workout.Who knows?Every once in a while a
cross-country skier crosses my path.Otherwise, I’m alone, as I usually am.I enjoy the serenity and nothingness before me, though I can’t ever stop
to take it all in. I forge my path as I
go.I must press on for yet a while longer.
A solitary black dot is moving slowly across a
vast, white landscape. Move in closer
and you’ll see the dot become grey and grow appendages. Now it’s starting to look like a virus attacking
a white blood cell through the lens of an electron microscope. Go ahead and get closer still. That’s
actually a bird’s eye view of me
running through a farm field in late December.
I’m trudging in 12 to 16 inch deep snow so quickly that you’d think wolves
were on my tail. I suppose I’m trying to
flee from mortality, not ravenous beasts, for I’ve resolved to maintain my run
workout throughout the throes of winter.
I need to do something to
counteract my sedentary lifestyle. Besides, I have so much energy inside me sometimes that I feel as if I am about to burst open. There’s a fire inside my head, a passion, a
desire, for something unattainable, indefinable. That sounds weird, I guess, or
melodramatic. In
the distance cars pass by on a country road.
I wonder what the passengers are thinking: either I’m crazy for running
in 25-degree weather or I’m getting a great workout. Who knows?
Every once in a while a
cross-country skier crosses my path.
Otherwise, I’m alone, as I usually am.
I enjoy the serenity and nothingness before me, though I can’t ever stop
to take it all in. I forge my path as I
go. I must press on for yet a while longer.
