FuriousNomad

I run slow



I work in the social services, and a lot of the people we work with
have a lot of regrets. I've asked our case managers to have their
clients come out and watch me run. I run so slow, time run backwards.
As I waddle along, your life runs in reverse. Scars becomes wounds
become chances to exercise better judgement. I run slow.



Like most people, I enjoy running in the mornings, before it gets to
hot. Unlike most people, I've been pushed over by a squirrel.



I run slow. Sometimes when I am running, I think of those zen fountains
that absorb a drip drip drip of water down a bamboo tube before finally
tipping over and dumping their contents into a pool. Each step I take
is another drip. I think, that fountain would call me a pussy.



I run slow. But I know where I have been.



Six months ago, I didn't run.



Six months ago, I had heartburn bad enough to keep me from sleeping
through the night. Six months ago, I felt like I needed to go to sleep
at 2pm. And six months ago, running felt impossible.



I run slow, and I have ways to go. But I can sleep. I feel alive. I can run two, slow, miles. Slowly.



Sometimes I get discouraged. I compare where I am to where other people
are. But all that matters is where I am compared to where I was.



Once something good becomes something you are going to do for the rest
of your life, the pace becomes less important. I know that my drip drip
drip will amount to that deluge, eventually. Someday I will run 3
miles, slowly.