Ive never been a runner. Even when I was ten or twelve years old, running was not my forte. Cursed with short legs and what was euphemistically called big bones, I knew that was slower than nearly everyone else. Growing up a few doors down from Ozie merely reinforced this view of myself. Having a chess players body whilst hanging out with a track star does not instill one with a lot of confidence about their physical prowess. I knew that I would never distinguish myself by running, unless it were as an example of how-not-to-do-it. Still, I recall times when I touched that magic that athletes all know -- or at least imagined that I did. We lived on the end of a dead-end street, at the bottom of a steep hill, and coming home from school, sometimes Id run down the hill in long, skipping steps. Aided by gravity and vector arithmetic, my usually short strides suddenly became long and it seemed like I floated just inches above the gravel for seconds at a time. With each stride, Id try to stay aloft just a tiny bit longer, holding onto flight. At night Id dream I really COULD fly, and the dreams always started out the same: with me running down our street, long strides giving way to floating, floating to flying . Id spread my arms out like wings, and soar out over the forest that stood beside our house, skimming the tree tops for what seemed like hours. On those nights, I never wanted to those dreams to end. I hovered along at the edge of sleep as long as I could, close enough to waking that Id remember the dream. I skipped along at the edge of waking, holding on to that feeling of flight for as long as I could. Today, Im 56 and my bones, alas, are even bigger. My dreams, on those rare nights when they come, are all firmly grounded. Running even a short distance reminds me of not of flying, but of mortality. With each jarring step, each ache of the knees, each thudding beat in my chest Im left to wonder am I doing myself good? or harm? Perhaps a bit of both. I dont run for myself these days. Im sufficiently out of shape that a brisk walk is more than capable of giving me the cardio workout I need. I run for my dog. we dont run far -- rarely more than 1 or 2 blocks on our miles-long walks. But I try to give her - to the best of my limited ability -- a few moments at a run. Because I love to see her gallop, all four feet working together with more grace than I could ever manage with two. I like to trot behind her and watch her tongue and ears, flopping and flapping in the cold air. I run with her because, when she runs, she reminds me of a 12 year old boy, skipping down a steep gravel road. On the way home, pretending he can fly.
Posted on: Sat, 24 Jan 2015 22:42:55 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015