Only a Dream
 

David Yon, July 24, 2010
 

He reached over in the dark room and slapped at the buzzing machine with the [neon] numbers flashing “something after five a.m.”  The sound was being absorbed by some sort of cob web, like arms waiving through the air to clear away spider webs, only to find themselves wrapped up in the amazingly persistent strands unable to get free.  He climbed out of bed and felt around on the floor in the dark until he found a pair of running shorts, then some socks and finally a pair of running shoes.  He slipped out of the room without waking anyone – not the two-legged or the four-legged companions.  A moment later he was at the beginning of the trail.  The first rays of light were just breaking through the branches above his head.

As he started down the path it felt awkward, like he had not run in more than a month.  It felt like there was no memory and no strength in the muscles of the legs.  Then he was through the gate, across an open area and under a heavy tree canopy.   His lungs sucked in the early morning air and his legs began to find a rhythm.   A doe stood guard on the trail – but guard duties were short as she bolted away with two young ones following close behind.   The emotion was strong and immediate – a flood of joy.  How could his legs not remember doing this?  His feet, protected by shoes, stepped higher with each stride.  Life pulsed beneath the skin and his heart pumped harder than it had in a long time.  

Light now was plentiful and it made the hill ahead visible.  Slowly the arms began to help out with the effort and his breathing got much more labored.  A memory surfaced of running this hill fast, charging from the bottom to the top.  Not this morning.  Today each step of elevation gain brought surrounding air with much less oxygen.  Or at least it seemed like that was the case.  Funny, he did not remember any mountains in Tallahassee and certainly there were not any on this trail.  At the top a turkey yelped, telling the runner he had been away too long to be welcome.  Then the bird, obviously not ready to share the trail with a stranger (didn’t this bird used to be more friendly), bolted straight up and flew away through the trees. 

He ran on past the spot cresting the hill and finding some relief.  The warm humid morning meant he was covered in sweat and regretted wearing a shirt.  He had forgotten how humid mornings could be? 

Around the top, the trail twisted and turned and the motion of following it brought pleasure.  Yes, bringing in the day with a run is a very special time.   The heart and soul find some solace and peace from a fast paced electronic world.  How could those legs not remember that? 
And then the trail started down.  The pace got faster, but the effort now seemed less.   There was a little magic in the air.  But it only lasted a short while as fatigue moves in quickly when a body is out of shape.  The fence marking the end of the run is not far ahead and he is set on getting there as quickly as possible.  He looks down at his watch to see if the time is good. 

The alarm starts blaring again.  He stumbles out of bed and turns it off again.  Wow, what was that?  The cob webs are starting to clear finally.  Only 51 days left to dream.   It can’t come too soon.