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swinging.

4/28/2012

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It used to be that every time I needed to think about something, I went for a run.  I sincerely hope it wasn't related to something melodramatic like feeling as if I could run away from my problems...because honestly, with my running ability, I wouldn't be able to outrun a trivial slur hurled at my back.  And it wasn't as if running around solved anything.  But somehow, I could start out a run with all of my thoughts coiled up tightly within and with each stride, each pounding step on the pavement, I could unravel it all little by little.

Consumed by thoughts, it'd be jarring to suddenly arrive at the end of this jumble of mental words.  All too suddenly, I'd be aware of the strain of my muscles, the swish of my jogging shorts, and the way the air would burn in my chest every time I breathed in.

Oftentimes I'd realize I was somewhere I didn't recognize...And I'd have to follow the thread of my apprehensions, ponderings, and angst to find a way home again.

I haven't gone running in a long time.
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    tisburelaine.

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