I kept up with Loui, and with Randy and with Danny. Finally my legs broke loose. My legs--breaking loose--rocking a rhythm--going Poom! and then Boom!--flowing smoothly breaking the air--forward and up--locking and loading--falling into a mental state of--this is--Runner's High.
Today's practice consisted of a 40 minute run. That of which had to be endurance pace. That of which I qualify as not breaking race pace threshold but being near that intensity, I like to think of it as "finding my spot" my physical and mental state of being where whatever I'm doing leads down a path of harmony.
To top off my morning, psych class got canceled. I'm already home enjoying the day off.
But let's stop for a second, just stop. This isn't just about me, and I'm addressing my reader now, this isn't just about ranting off about my day and what happened and if I complained or not. Frankly, that would make me another cliche and I don't want to cheat you like that. Listen, it could be I'm not selfish enough to just make every word on this blog have my name plastered all over it, or it could be, and I really mean this, it could be I really want you to take something raw out of what I'm about to say.
So buckle your seat belt, because you are in my car now, and we are about to crash into a goddamn concrete wall.
There was a guy on a wheelchair at school, his legs were very thin, not because he was skinny, but because of the way his genetics had played him out. If he wants to move there is a joystick on the wheelchair, all he has to do is push it, and he can go any direction he wants. Only he's not really moving, the wheelchair is, and he just happens to be sitting on it.
Yesterday I met a girl, let's say her name is Samantha. One of her legs is very thin, not because she's skinny, but because of the way her genetics played her out. When she moves her body is off balance, and if she wants to go right she goes right, and if she wants to kick you in the face I'm pretty sure she can do it.
While on the bus this morning another guy on a wheelchair came in, this one had no legs, not because of the way his genetics played him out, but because of the amputation he had undergone, reason being.....a bomb could have blown them off way before I was even born. He was a war veteran.
On the second bus I took, an old man wearing khaki shorts got on. His legs were swollen, purple, bruised and he had trouble moving, I thought this was not because he had fallen and suddenly his legs were just bruised, but because he had a disease and it was slowly corroding his limbs. This man sat next to me.
While I sat there looking at that man's legs, all bruised and purple and swollen, I felt repulsive, but I also thought about the other people, I thought about the guy at school on his wheelchair with his thin legs, I thought about the girl Samantha and her one thin leg, I thought about that war veteran and his wheelchair and how he had no legs. I thought about them.
The minute I came home I looked at my own legs, and I mean really looked at them, inch by inch, detail by detail. I looked at them like I was searching for something that was lost long ago. I felt my muscles, the hair on my skin, the three scars on my right knee, I even rubbed my feet a little.
This is where the twist came--my moment of truth--my godly realization that didn't quite reach the extent of an Epiphany but still hit me hard enough to move me and knock me over.
These were my legs. They have always been mine. These were my legs and they work just fine, they are not swollen or bruised or thin, I don't even own a wheelchair, I don't even have to wear a cast around them. And they are skinny, but it's not because I don't eat enough, they are skinny because my genetics played me out this way, that and all the running I do.
So the next time I find myself keeping up with Loui or Randy or whoever, the next time I feel my legs breaking loose and slowly falling into a rhythm, when I'm breaking through the air moving forward and up, when I get my next runner's high, you can ask me this question: Angel, how do you feel about your legs? And I will say this:
I'm really lucky to have legs, I really can't stress that enough.
Stay Tuned
-angel
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