morning run

The early morning air is cool on my skin, yet I feel nothing but warmth and the rhythmic thud of my heart. Darkness erases my steps as I make my way through the familiar neighborhood. It has been months since I passed this way, and it may be months until I pass this way again. 

There are seven of us this morning. We move between laughter and silence, jostling for position in a jagged string. Mostly, it seems everyone is enjoying the stillness of the air.

My heartbeat fills my senses as my feet glide silently along uneven ground.

Uphill, downhill, front to back, I run.

I try not to think of the things that keep me awake at night, or of the mountain of work awaiting me. 

I am happy that I finally get to join the others; I've been missing Tuesday and Wednesday morning workouts because of needing to be at the hospital so early.

But that rotation is over.

So now, at least for today, I am able to run.

I press on, faster. 

My heartbeat is lodged in my ears, a constant reminder of living.

The darkness makes no sign of lifting. 

I can see that fall already has an early grasp on the park and the tell-tale signs of colored leaves and cooler weather is more than an empty promise.

For a moment, I long for the smell of decaying leaves.

Then I remember what comes after fall.

I do another front to back

(because I like repeating myself)

and am grateful that I do not have to change my pace.

This morning's run is calm. 

At least, it is on the outside.

My insides are screaming and I fear that everything will fall apart if I stop.

I press onward in a vain effort to outrun my insides.