Wednesday, January 11, 2012

writing: running for you


you're the reason i started running.

well, not JUST you.
there were other things.
but you were the final factor.
the thing that pushed me over the edge and into a pair of running shoes.
it was your thought that pushed me out the door.
your face that pulled me through those first hard miles.
your name that gave the aches and blisters meaning.
your hope that sucked mouthfuls of sweet air into my gasping lungs.

you're the reason i kept running.
i was accountable to you, even if you didn't know it.
it was your voice in my head that stopped me from quitting.
your words that picked me up from every setback and injury.
your touch that rolled off me with every drop of salt and sweat.

it felt like vindication.
even when you didn't want me,
it was still about you.
because even though you'd never call,
it was the thought that you might,
that made me want to have something to say.
some accomplishment to share.
some way to impress you.
some manner in which to feel important enough.

and,
it was knowing all of this,
realizing it,
cringing from it,
acknowledging it,
facing it,
and hating it,
that continued to fuel me, in the end.

but,
i'm the reason i'm STILL running.
it's MY voice in my head.
it's MY words echoing around in there.
it's MY goals and MY pain and MY courage.

i ran your miles.

but these ones are for me. 

7 comments:

Myke Olsen said...

I remember feeling similarly when I started running. And like you, the reason I keep going is for me.

Emma Frances said...

So beautifully written. I love this. So open and honest.

Julia Jones said...

I'm in "like" with this post :)

Molli loves Tyler said...

You're a great poet my dear. I heart you.

Katie said...

i love this. mucho mucho.

Elisabeth Gee said...

YES!!! This is exactly how I feel! :) :)

Anonymous said...

This is one of those things that you read where you suddenly remember the power of writing. How a girl across the country somehow feels *exactly* the way I feel. Like you've reached into my soul and written my story. That's powerful. And those emotions? Like a kick in the stomach, followed by some sort of determined resurgence. Running for myself. Writing for myself. Working for myself. Becoming myself, without defining myself in his eyes. Thanks for this.