The Morning Run

He wakes at 5 am; the road awaits

His aging body protests, but loses the battle to the mind,

The mind bent on running

The runner rises early, an entire day must be performed after the morning run. Back before his body refused to quickly repair itself after 45 minutes of constant motion, the man could run all day. He always thought running was fun, and even now as his middle-aged legs consisting of toes, feet, ankles, shins, knees, bones and muscles silently screamed their opposition in the early hour of the morning, the man's mind told him running was still fun.

He sees his shoes, the pair of New Balance surround his calloused feet

As he pulls them on, the shoes the last of his equipment he puts on,

The road calls

Before the man opens the door to the 35º fahrenheit environment outside, he stretches in an attempt to convince those bones and muscles of their obligation as working appendages, sworn by genetics to obey the all-powerful brain, an organ never called upon to transport the rest of the body anywhere. The man looks out the living room window; it's dark outside; a storm approaches.

The first steps hide the man's desire to sprint, to cover vast distances

And deny the laws of nature their rightful, eternal due

The cold air fills his lungs

The man rounds the corner of the street on which he lives. He looks skyward, eastward and knows it will be hours before the sun eclipses the mountain tops. It's Monday morning and few cars are on the road at this hour, something he has noticed on Monday mornings. The next intersection comes into view, then is crossed by the man, his breath in sync with his pumping legs. Again the man looks up. No rain yet.

Randomness fills the runner's mind, a thought for the coming day

Escapes from the others, he remembers something he forgot the week before,

The day will suck

With 15 minutes in, the runner's body relents, his legs floating over the pavement. The runner rounds a corner; the road's grade increases and the body responds to compensate. He crests the small hill and sees a long tree-lined road descending before him. A sidewalk runs parallel to the road on the runner's left, but the runner chooses not to use it--the tree's roots lifting sections of the cement causing an unsafe environment for running. The man runs at an approaching set of headlights and wonders if the driver will pass him safely by, or if this will be the morning when a car ends his life.