I won’t do it.

Sometimes, when I run, I imagine that this kind of retreat/defeat is exactly what follows on my heels.  It chases me and I curse the pavement, the heavens, my failing body.  Sweat drips into my eye.  My quads scream in protest.  I suck air, and pant heavily.  My breath is shallow; my limbs rubber.

It doesn’t matter.

Or maybe it’s the only thing that matters.

Because I am living in that moment — and in that moment alone.  The pain overrides any of the other residual insecurity that pings around the interior of my skull like so many sonar beams, and in that instant, I am locked in battle only with my muscles.

I wonder if this is how professional athletes feel when they are “in the zone;” just them and their body…despite being on display for millions to watch their every movement.

Things fall apart, or things fall into place.  The mind’s eternal, unquenchable thirst for control will never truly be satiated, so drop that noise and focus on the immediate.

Since the past & the future are pretty much abstracts, it’s really all we have, anyway: the present.

Live like it.



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