Running

In a semiconscious state, I dress for the occasion…shorts, shirt, socks, and shoes. Priorities dictate brushing my teeth and a swig of water to quench my thirst before I head out the door. I grab my IPod, as the sleep build-up in my eyes is drowsily brushed away. My muscles protest as I stretch. The walking begins and my heart immediately starts pumping in anticipation. I have done this long enough that my body foresees the miles ahead. The steady cadence of the Air-Pegasus Nikes pounds the pavement to match the AC/DC wake-up call. “Back in Black” screams out the headphones as I convince myself this is really happening. I start to notice the early morning sky with the winking stars as my guide. No one is moving in my little sleepy town. Most of its inhabitants are still nestled in their beds. I make the trek out to the park. Some mornings I even catch a raccoon trying to finish off his late night scavenger hunt in the park for any goodies left. Having planned my course, my midway point is designated as the flagpole in a strategic location. I concentrate on form and breathing. My goal is to better my time and endurance with each run as I run against myself. My emergency motivation song “Eye of the Tiger” is set for if I falter. The hill coming up out of the park has been knick-named “Heartbreak Hill” after the Boston Marathon for a reason. Reaching the top of is a thrill. My mantra matching my pace is "I will never give up". Running with sweat dripping in my eyes and down my back, it truly feels like poisons are being released with each step. Rounding the corner, towards the house, my IPod reveals the countdown for the last 400 meters. Home is in sight. Relief is in sight. Pride swells. I have done it again. Lance Armstrong congratulates me on a new personal best in the 5km. My day begins….