We aren’t always successful in outrunning our problems, but occasionally we are compelled with enough strength to outrun them.
Running along the left dirt shoulder of a dusty road, I am the deer in the headlights. Swimming upstream like a salmon, the world hanging in the balance.
Salt saturated sweat mixes with condensation of the night like a cocktail and blurs my vision, but I see more clearly. Heart races at 180 BPM, my feet try to keep pace.
I’m tired; but most of all, I’m tired of being tired. So tired, I can’t sleep. Running energizes, but I run to avoid, to escape. I run from life.
I crane my neck as I pass by a scene from a Robert Frost poem. Freshly harvested grain combed neatly to provide the appearance of waves, rolling in across the plain on a calm fall evening. Forest trees stand guard over the art along the perimeter. The scene beckons to me. I wish to live in that picture, but I dare not wander off the road – I might never return.
My legs are heavy, my breath labored. Headlights from my back push me along – I harvest the light like a sail on a vessel. A course uncharted, a destination unknown. Blindly exploring the night in search of something that may not even exist.
Why do we wait? What do we wait for?
I pick up the pace. I run pass homes, friends, footsteps and memories. I’ve forgotten home and I’m not sure I can ever get back. I’m not ready to let go.
I sprint towards the finish, just as I was taught. I’ve slowed considerably over the years, but it still feels like flying. I wish I could. I just keep running in hopes that perhaps one day, I will.
Homeless, no longer safe standing – I run.