Run Free

Broken, debased So much life, a waste These tears, my own I catch them, alone One day, to die Between dirt, and sky Only then, to rest Life cursed, death blessed.

Listening to the bone chilling wind whip from the warm indoors, that a-hair-crazy-inner-running-voice proclaiming, “Ah, another lovely day to run!” as you force your legs out the door.

When the humid air is so thick, your pace deteriorates into baywatch-style slowmo (minus the red bathing suit and cool expression).

When you cross the finish line a few fighting seconds from breaking into the prior minute....all the while kicking it in to the ticking, mocking finish line clock.

Words to run by.

Breezy post-run stretching under blue sky bliss

Springtime mud run…getting covered in dirt somehow cleanses the soul.

You know you're a running junkie when you're elated for 1000m repeats.