Listen

Did you hear me?
Sitting at the table
with the look of disgust barely hidden on your
smug face.
your mom's brownies sitting gooey and untouched.
Going uneaten. Being left behind.

My body aches from
remembering.
Every touch either slight or intentioned
now turning to bruises of memory
of the life we lived before
your words slapped me in the face.
If you say you didn't mean it that way,
it hurt.

You faked your way
through summer days of salty skin,
juicy barbeques and
late nights of smoky side talks and
endless hours of chasing.

And even now,
I sit here, quiet.
ready to fight
for the many miles and the many trials
we've put on our rubber-soled shoes.
The mud caked from years of laughter and tears.
All it takes to wash clean is an action.
The thought is there:
white shoes are always nicer,
but that's not the real runners way.

Tears splash upon the dark oak,
pooling, waiting to be swiped
away.
Looking up to the white walls
for some relief
our faces graffiti them with
the years of becoming deeply unnatural with
the passing dates
and the need to please and the want
to get the hell out.

So I do just that
scraping my chair across the floor,
backing away.
Obviously listening,
your mom runs down the stairs to say good-bye.
She knows what is really going on.

It'll be different now,
not the same,
not better either.

Footsteps echo
through your house
where so many laughs,
tears and good times once crowded the rooms.
Maybe only once more, for
the whole groups sake.
Because we have to.

Clasping the gold handle,
cold stings my already frozen hands,
I hear the choked sob from behind.
But I have no idea which throat it came from.
Hurting should be this hard, but we can't
help through.
We did it to each other

I'm walking away.
It's what you wanted.
The distance to my car seems forever.
I turn, out of habit,
Thinking I might catch a glimmer from your eyes
standing in the door,
but it is already shut,
hopes and dreams being cast away with it.
Only your mom standing in the window,
the glass casting a sparkle that
rolls down her face.

Raspy breaths and
heartbeats in my throat
scare me as I try to
gain control behind the wheel.
Your room looking down on the drive,
hoping to see your shadow
looking out into the darkness.
Don't change your mind now.
This is what you wanted.

i stumble... i'm still running

I love the feeling of accomplishment.
I love the feeling of a Runner's High.
I love the feeling of the ground being covered by my feet.
I believe that running is a real sport.
I love knowing that we don't have timeouts, water breaks, and half times.
I love wearing as little as possible.
I love the feeling of the breeze against my face.
I love bursting into that unearthly kick from 300 meters out when I know nobody else is thinking about kicking for another 100 meters.
I love getting no respect.
I love being the Underdog.
I love creating upsets.
I believe in the Prefontaines, the Frank Shorters, the Roger Bannisters, and the Gebersalassie's.
I love the fact that people of all ages can do this sport.
I love running 25 laps,
I love running 12.5 laps, even thought I haven't actually done it,
I love the feeling of knowing I want to.
I love the feeling of the crowd being behind you.
I love running for 15+ miles in the heat.
I love running 10 miles in shin deep snow.
I love running on the beach.
I love running up hills. I love the feeling of throwing up after a good workout.
I love holding on to teammates so that you can keep your balance after a race.
I love that we don't get rained out.
I love bursting that orb inside of me at the exact perfect moment.
I run because the demons inside me tell me to.
I love that our sport can be competed anywhere and at anytime.
I love the feeling of the joy and the woe.
I love looking like a zombie when I am running high mileage.
I love having a good reason to go to bed early.
I love the fact that skinny guys are sexy.
I love that guys in SHORT SHORTS are sexy.
I love the fact that you have to be CRAZY to do it.
I run because there is nothing to lose and nothing to gain.
I love to run because it is what makes me who I am and I will never let anyone tell me to change, because I am a runner, and I sure as hell love it.
I love running most of all because without it, I would lose my mind.