(written 8/27/13, 9:54pm)
tonight, i started out thinking that there wasn't anything so quietly rebellious as running against the wind.
feeling it push against you, impossibly hard, knowing you're losing, but running anyway.
or feeling your injured knee joint pulsating against its cage of ligaments, furiously objecting to the rigorous motion, but gently urging it on, like a rider to its horse.
and seeing the raindrops start to collect on the pavement and watching the park patrons hurriedly gather their belongings, secretly taking pride in knowing that what beckoned you to the park is what scared them off. knowing that you'd soon have it all to yourself.
and letting the sky change your mood, both getting more and more cloudy, more layered, more concerned as both deepen.
the rain comes.
i want to yell, come on, rain. give me all you have. you're just rain, what can you do to me? what can you do? you're just rain.
--
oh, it felt so good.
i knew i couldn't really run tonight. there is no way in heaven that i could try to run like a "runner" because i wince when i stand after sitting in a cross-legged position for too long; how could i even attempt to run for real with my busted knee?
but a child can play, can't she?
i hadn't initially thought of it like this.
but i certainly did tonight.
the angry storm was rolling when i pulled into to the parking lot of the park. i arrived with my running clothes on under my warn, thin white zip up hoodie, not knowing if i was there for a thought-provoking stroll or to invoke a song-writing session or there for art inspiration. i assumed i was there just for just a brief walk, or a brisk work-out walk, or a run-walk in an attempt for exercise. i didn't really know why i was there; i just knew i needed to be there.
i found out along the path. earphones in, i turned to specific music which perfectly framed the scene. the storm quickly gathered its thoughts after i arrived; they seemed unhappy. i observed as birds and people alike interacted. as the sky darkened, so did my mood. i didn't fight it this time. soon the raindrops came more and more rhythmically and thankfully, the people soon dispersed.
i couldn't help it anymore. my mind was agitated; so was my body. my walk became more brisk. it became a jog. come on, i urged my already tired knee. i had a side ache already from walking. i found that pathetic. but instead of being frustrated at my injured body, i encouraged it. we can do this. we can even go on the grass. and so we did.
we wound through the trees, from one spot of grass to the next and visited the pavement between. it was a freeing sort of a run. i realized that i didn't have to run a route; i could go wherever i wanted to. i wasn't training. i wasn't even here to run.
at one point i paused. i noticed the rain seemed happier that the people gone as well, almost like a we'd been a couple wishing away a third-wheel friend. it was almost instantaneously constant and though there was lightning and thunder, they were distant and the air carried a light mood amidst the continual rain. similarly, my mood also started to lift. there was still one stray kid and a waiting car, but i didn't mind. i switched to a better song and was off again. it felt wonderful. then i caught a glimpse of the sun--ah! the sun! i remembered that is what brought me to this particular place to begin with: it was the only location in which i could still see the setting sun. i jogged towards it. how i loved that setting sun.
i soon realized there was a whole portion of the park that i'd never run before on my "runs" -- the runs that i'd ran when i was trying to stay in shape or better my time. so i delved into that area. it was liberating. it had started to rain hard. i reminded myself: i wasn't even here to run. i could do whatever i wanted to do. and so i did.
i jogged.
i zig zagged.
i walked.
i bounded.
i ran in circles.
(big ones and little ones)
i twirled.
i laughed.
i spit.
i skipped.
i sprinted.
i slowed.
i ran around the trees
and touched their bristles with my fingertips.
i stopped for a second,
the rain dripping down my nose
and chin, into my eyes,
and looked at the sun.
the sun looked back at me,
hooded from behind its clouds
which made it easier for me to look it in the eye.
which was sort of a paradox.
it was raining so hard.
i felt like a little child.
so giddy
so gleefully happy.
i felt like i could do anything.
i did some more frolicking.
i felt like i was playing games with myself,
and i kind of was.
i raced myself.
i chased the wind.
i sang songs in my head.
i blinked back the water.
and then it hit me like a ton of bricks,
why i thought of going for a walk in the first place --
i am getting sick.
i skipped yoga tonight because i'm getting sick
and i was going on a brief walk because that felt less hazardous than a full yoga session. i am an adult and i am on one of the strictest deadlines i've had for quite some time and i've no time to be sick.
i took stock of myself.
i was dripping wet.
out of breath.
and suddenly i felt ashamed.
and that bit of shame uncovered
all the thoughts
that had been hooded
under the sun in my mind--
all the reasons why i had been brooding
along with the sky in the first place.
somehow, both slowly and hastily,
i dragged myself back to the car.
the rain felt so heavy
and i was soaked to the bone.
i became vaguely aware of my iphone
which was tucked into the front of my shirt.
so i held my hand to my hoodie to pull the wet fabric away;
i'm sure it looked as though i was clutching my heart.
i felt like the rain made up for the tears
that i felt like i should be crying.
i felt ever so confused.
i glanced over to where i last saw the sun.
i wished i could still see it,
but it had hidden itself for the night.
in my sudden panic and confusion,
i hadn't even bid it a proper good-bye.
good-byes are important to me.
i wished it would come back.
how i miss the sun.
and though it comes back,
it first always leaves me.
