Running

Anger. Hate. Jealousy.

Murderous feelings that have snaked their way into my soul. I’ve always been the good guy. The favorite kid. The brilliant student. The generous friend.

I used to think that’s all I would be. I didn’t see this coming. I didn’t know it was possible to be who you are and still act like a total stranger. I didn’t know it was possible to feel emotions that are seemingly on either end of the spectrum of human consciousness. To love yet hate. To be nice and still be a douchebag. To be understanding yet frightfully unaccommodating.

Such is the dilemma I face.

I recently took up running.

Every morning, I get my gear together (track pants, T-shirt, joggers, phone, earphones and face cap) and head out to the coolness of dawn.

This morning though, my mind was like a kaleidoscope, not of bright shiny colors, but of sharp, conflicting thoughts and feelings. My brain felt overtasked and was yelling at me for a release, a vent for the miniature emotional hurricane it was being forced to contain.

So I ran again. I ran to clear my head. To feel the cool air against my warm skin. To channel all this energy from my throbbing head into the muscle and bone and joints in my limbs.

If only we could run off the desire for more. Run off the feeling of failure. Run off the fear of the unknown. I’d run a whole lot more.

“The toad does not run in the noonday in vain. It’s either chasing something, or it’s being chased by something.”

My parents' parents must have shoved some serious proverbs down their throats, lol!

So why am I running? Am I chasing? Or am I being chased?

I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.