Let's just run with it and see where it goes. First time on the grind since the marathon. It's funny how much I need it in my life. I haven't felt myself since the last race. I often have the feeling as my black i-pod carrier straps around my right arm that it is a surgical tubing isolating my arm as I plug my music in just above the main vein inside the elbow. The music pulses into my brain creating an artificial stimulus to heighten the natural one that is to come.
My legs, otherwise sore, my eyes otherwise heavy, my brain otherwise tied in calculations, all perk at the anticipation. They are still run down, but they know that the stimulation to come will transcend them above the ho-hum comforts of the couch. Whatever pain they will feel after is the price to dance with the heights they will try to obtain. The soaring heights. These heights are the response to the question, "How far will the human mind and body go?" "When against the wall what limits will he break?" The body, ready to run, submits itself to these questions to the spirit eager to pursue them.
But it is not only the heights that inspire but the ever menacing fall. The free fall that comes whenever the pace pushes me towards a crash, the survivalist urge that evolution instills deep in our soul. I don't want to swallow failure but I want to taste it. Run it across my teeth like the tongue runs across an bloodied lip from a well connected blow. Feed off of it and face the fears and destruction within. That instinctual urge that is so often repressed and restricted, yet still exists in us, a trace of our inner monster. The chance to dance with our demons without indulging in their destructive games. To dance them into the ground and laugh over them holding a cadence their bestial yet weak compositions can't support. If you see me about to leave on a run, look in my eyes and you can see these highs and lows play out, before I take a slight hop, shrug, smile and start.
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