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Running

Writer's picture: Brandon FriesBrandon Fries

today

another day

hoping for a break

it’s been raining—

the inky clouds part

today

i try something new—

action in my life

well maybe

for this moment

i ran often

an escape

breathless

dizziness

excitement—

the runners high

looking at my shoes

i need a high today

anything will do

desperate

yesterday was rough

wheezing

rain slapping

stopping often—

little pansy

tears formed in my eyes

i wouldn't let the fuckers fall

i couldn’t give it satisfaction

lace my shoes

tie the knots

extra tight

open the front door

shove my phone into the armband

cram the earbuds

deep

into my ears

i'm going to do better

than yesterday—

i have to

yell upstairs

"heading out"

shut the door

before the answer comes back

i start off

slowly

that's how i'll beat yesterday

i was moving

too fast

trying to beat a time

i once had

but not eating healthy

or working out—

i’m fat and lazy

i'm getting older

so yeah

start off nice

and

slow

i take the same

two-and-a-half-miles

it’s familiar

unchanging

consistent

sidewalk is still wet

hidden path

through the houses

to the park

it's her park

my daughter

loves to slide

spins real fast

jumps from swing

the knot forms

just the thought—

my rug rat

flowing brown hair

and sweet giggle

dancing brown eyes

stolen my heart

a daddy's girl

daily on the couch

tickling

laughing

cuddling

holding

living

her version of a kiss

licking my neck

a sloppy mess

i love her

i'm further than yesterday

thinking of anything

other than running helps

my daughter—

the grand distraction

feeling frantic

breathless—

shit

do

something

need to keep

hauling

ass

down the sidewalk

sharp right at the river

step through a puddle

of mud

i slip

legs give way—

arms flail

"Fuck"

my right arm

finds the handrail

safe from falling completely

continue the journey

along the river

is it a river—

lived here for years

only to see

small puddles after the storm

will water ever filled the banks

why the waste

what’s the purpose

first mile done

i'm ahead of yesterday’s pace

so I walk

i’m better

my thoughts are sharper

it's not the runners high

but better than nothing

no tears today—

only a focused run

i'll comeback

tomorrow

this is fun

quarter of a mile later—

a quick hop

running again

turn onto the road

against the traffic

they breeze by

cooling my sweaty face

i'm moving faster

traffic blows by

my old pace—

a lie to myself

to keep on going

the final half-mile—

all uphill

at the bottom

i stop

i walk

i feel accomplished

something good is happening

i crushed it

today

home

i open the door

yell out

"babe—

i'm here"

silence

i breath in

belting it out

"babe—

are you

home"

nothing

they’re still dead


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