My Running Life

Static laden music emanates from the clock/radio next to my bed. The red numbers show 5:42am. I quickly turn it off so as not to wake Nick. I tumble out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom. For many months I am doing this in the dark, feeling my way along the hall. As soon as I get to the bathroom I plug in the space heater and throw my clothes in a heap in front of it. After I use the toilet and take a swig of water I transfer out of my cozy flannel jammies and into my sweat wicking running tights, bra and shirt as quickly as possible while half asleep.

I tiptoe downstairs and grab my hat, cell phone and a key, lace up my running shoes and head out the door. Many times I am also adorned with enough blinking lights that someone might mistake me for a school crossing guard who lost a fight with a Christmas Tree. My reflective vest, blinking lights attached to the vest and my headlamp are doing their job and that's really all I care about.

The stars shine brightly and on good days the moon is helping my headlamp do it's job. I make as much noise with my feet as I can and sometimes clap my hands together a few times just to let any wayward wandering creatures of the night know it is morning and I am near and if they would stay away I would appreciate it. I say my morning prayer in a whisper as I walk down the street and sweep the glow from my headlamp from side to side.

Soon I see another distant glow heading towards me, two trains on a collision course. We are so happy to see each other in the darkness and we continue our shuffle up the street as our bodies adjust to the cold and to what we are about to ask them to do for us. We begin slowly, small, waddling steps. The frigid air making it's way into our lungs and coming back out in puffs of white. Our muscles slowly releasing to the demands to move a bit quicker, climb up that hill, keep us moving forward.

We chat about our day ahead and whatever we may have left behind. We tell our stories to each other, sometimes in the darkness it is like a catholic confessional, we run side-by-side and spill out our fears, hurts, desires, happiness and joy. We catch our breath as we round the corner and the color of the sun rising in the sky stops us in our tracks. It is like someone was trying to wash a rainbow away but all they managed to do was smear and smudge it further across the sky. We are travelers, adventurers on a magical trip. Every morning holds the promise of seeing some part of the world that we would not see if we were still in bed.

We fall into our familiar rhythm in our proper places, I always run on the inside. We pass the familiar sights of our neighborhoods made more serene by the darkness and the quiet of the early morning. We see fellow travelers on foot, bike, car and we wave a morning greeting. As we finish our run more of the world has come to life. We become more of who we will be all day long, mothers, wives, employees, sisters, friends. We made our escape and now we must return as if nothing has happened and await our next chance to run.

I feel free when I run. And I feel like I am moving forward, and sometimes like I am running away.