I just want to run…

 

I just want to run, like I once did when I was a kid, effortlessly and pain free, fast and easy, like I can still do in dreams. I want to feel the rush of air on my face, taste it as it flows cold thru my nose and swelling alveoli to nourish a racing heart. If I fall, I’ll get right up. Let wounds ooze and weep without worry, for they can be dealt with later. Because right now, I just want to run.

 

Faster and faster, I want to run, and leave it all in the past….I want to dash like Usain Bolt, a bipedal blur, strong and relentless, despite being trapped in a body now withered and bleached and cankered with bedsores. No pestering cell phone or laptop to slow me down, no IV tubes or gauze-tape or wire leads chaining me to monitors glowing with jaundice news. If only for a moment, or even briefly, I want to run away from the responsibility of being ill; outrun the incessant hemorrhage of bills and pills and insurance forms.

 

I want to push it beyond the limit, because I know that I can….Leave behind the handicap of fatigue and analgesic and the arthritic solder of chronic disease. I want to run away from life, but I want to live. I want to breathe without the worry of a next coming breath. I want to cry without fear, like tears loosed by the joy of seeing family members triumph. Let those tears paint my cheeks without consequence, in simple brushstrokes of reclaimed seawater, like they did as a child. I want to run and run and run along dusty hardpan, beneath a postcard blue sky, unburdened by the crippling uncertainly and the never-ending question terrorizing my mind….am I going to live or die?

 

Through whiskered fields or unclean streets, I just want to run – like I once did, like I once could – limbs swinging with the emancipation of youth. Because I know if I could run, nothing else would matter…

 

…Because if I could run, I know I could do anything…

 

 

*It’s a unique experience (dare I say blessed) to suffer, and survive, as I did. Seven years ago I lay in bed, so sick that lifting my head off the pillow was the physical equivalent of summiting Everest. All the time, helpless and embalmed with uncertainty, hope a distant echo in a mindscape fettered in surrender, while taut faced family members rung my bed like satellites in close orbit around a dying sun. I remember feeling for them more so than myself. Beyond the obvious concerns for my family, and the uncertainty of whether tomorrow I would stand atop the earth or lay a flat fathom below, all I could think was…

 

…I just want to run.

 

Later tonight, before my day comes to a close, I plan on finding a remote path and doing just that. Hold my hand and join me?!

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