Love Labor's Lost

volumes of mis-adventures


on February 18, 2013

The sound of a breath flowing steadily in and out of the mouth. Trees stand around like a tribunal waiting to judge and declare. The concrete ground beneath is firm against every stride.One knee bends the other extends. The ear buds burst with music, and as the tempo heightens so does the pace. A familiar path. Running.

As you start to leap forward farther and farther, like an antelope, the trees that seemed to be your personal land-ornamentation begin to blur. The distinct cracks of the road beneath your feet begins to fade, and all you seem to notice is the intensity of the notes running through your ears. Escape.

As my pace quicken, my mind’s worries fade, and running becomes less physical and more a mental exercise. How fast do I have to go to escape my own thoughts? It’s a trick question, and one that I run into almost every time I run or cycle. I realized a while ago that running/working-out is the only way to quiet my thoughts. The only way to get myself to sleep at night is to tire myself out. My mind works at lightening pace sorting through moments, events, stresses, goals, desire, wants and needs, and at the end of the day the only words I seem to utter are, “I just don’t know.” Then again, if we knew, thinking would be superfluous. Stop.


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