Running
I recall, even at a young age, I would love to run.
I would do my homework, get yelled at by my parents, be told I am not good enough. Feeling great sorrow, I would go to sleep. Then I would wake up for school. I would eat my breakfast and brush my teeth and walk to school and listen to my teacher and do my class work until finally,
I would run out into the grass fields and play tag and skip and run.
I reminisce, even as a young student, I would love to run.
I would sit and do homework, make flashcards, graph functions, conjugate words, memorize dates, calculate density, write essays with the stress surmounting to the point where I felt I would break and quit everything until finally,
I would run out onto the tennis courts and serve and hit and run.
I remember, even as a high school student, I would love to run.
I would sit. I would study. And I would sit for long periods of time. My legs would be restless as they shook up and down as I sat. I would take the SATs, the APs, and my exams. I would be overwhelmed at the inevitability of a stressful life, the ongoing struggle that life was becoming, the endless tests and trials. Until finally,
I would run out onto the basketball courts and dribble and shoot and run.
I think, even as an adult, even as an old man, I will love to run.
Because even if my legs are taken away from me,
I. Am. Always. Running.
I would do my homework, get yelled at by my parents, be told I am not good enough. Feeling great sorrow, I would go to sleep. Then I would wake up for school. I would eat my breakfast and brush my teeth and walk to school and listen to my teacher and do my class work until finally,
I would run out into the grass fields and play tag and skip and run.
I reminisce, even as a young student, I would love to run.
I would sit and do homework, make flashcards, graph functions, conjugate words, memorize dates, calculate density, write essays with the stress surmounting to the point where I felt I would break and quit everything until finally,
I would run out onto the tennis courts and serve and hit and run.
I remember, even as a high school student, I would love to run.
I would sit. I would study. And I would sit for long periods of time. My legs would be restless as they shook up and down as I sat. I would take the SATs, the APs, and my exams. I would be overwhelmed at the inevitability of a stressful life, the ongoing struggle that life was becoming, the endless tests and trials. Until finally,
I would run out onto the basketball courts and dribble and shoot and run.
I think, even as an adult, even as an old man, I will love to run.
Because even if my legs are taken away from me,
I. Am. Always. Running.