mantras

it's okay to be cold, it's okay to be cold, it's okay to be cold.

i chant this under my breath, my cadence high because i think it'll move my blood around faster. the wind demoralizes me quickly, but i'll be warm before it cuts all the way through.

i do this on faith that the last time i did this, nothing bad happened. i do this knowing that i'm not far from my own home, or countless other buildings that would let me in if i knocked on a door. i can think about those things because there have been times that i've been cold, or scared, or scared because i was cold, and i was hours of walking away from the nearest road.

it's okay to be cold, sometimes.

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23 March 2018 22:13

train your feet

i don't have to ask my ankles to respond; i trust that they will, on their own. by the time my shoes have lost traction on a tiny patch of ice, it's too late for me to think about it, anyway.

i do have control over my general trajectory, though. i know that i can typically get better traction on snow, punching past the surface and landing in slush below. where it's not icy, it's muddy. dark pavement is hard to judge this close to sunset; i can't tell for sure if it's wet or frozen.

even the dogs are slowly picking their way through.

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22 March 2018 22:53

fan

heat rises from the sun-baked valley. i call it a valley, even though it's hardly even a hill. i pass a woman with a young grandson, both wearing coats and squatting on the hillside sharing food out of a paper bag. they don't seem to understand why i am wearing a t-shirt and shorts, but there is a sheen of sweat baked onto my face.

a silvered old man in a steelers jacket and beanie raises a fist to the sky as we pass each other. 'get on, keep it moving, get on out there,' he cheers, and i return his salute.

i sprint down the bridge in both directions, grateful for the crosswind that pulls moisture from my face and leaves only salt. it takes only fifteen minutes before i catch up to my number one fan of the day, and when i come up behind him under the tunnel, i shout, 'hey, i'm catching up to you!'

'oh! it's you! you made it back! keep on running, you keep moving there!'

his voice falls away, indistinct and blown apart by parkway traffic, but i round the corner with one hand raised high so he can see me. i run more upright, striding out, shoulders even, when i have an audience. i cannot yet imagine that i always have an audience.

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19 March 2018 20:33

Stride

The vent for the downstairs unit's bathroom was recently moved to exit onto our back stairs; whenever someone there showers, all I can smell on the porch is Pert and heavy cologne.

The sun is sudeenly too harsh during the day for me to tolerate running before dark, and I have to relearn that it's totally okay to slip across dark sidewalks and under trees and past bushes and spook starved rabbits that are only just discovering that there's grass to eat. The day's worth of sweat has already dried on my skin, and the sweat that pushes out of my pores while I run has nowhere to go.

I have to relearn that it's okay to be slow when I'm training because soon I'll be faster.

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08 May 2014 22:49

Blend

A fine layer of fresh leaf growth covers the ground, hovering at shin height on invisible stalks. I rounded the corner and encountered a herd of doe, half standing above the undergrowth and half tiptoeing over the muddy path that cut through the middle. They froze when I approached, and stared unblinkingly at me; my neon pink shirt reflected in their eyes, a splotch of color growing larger until I was on top of the herd.

At the same moment, all of the split; most retreated back into the leafy cover that hid their hooves and not much more, while two dashed the other way and spilled down the embankment on the other side of the path. They almost made no noise. It's always the chipmunks that make all the noise, scuffling through rotting vegetation that no longer sees the sun.

Somehow, when the deer are still against the backdrop of the rest of the hillside, I cannot see them in my periphery.

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01 May 2014 18:51