(no subject)
Click. I press the play button and relish in the split-second pause before the guitar begins to blast in my ear. I clutch my ipod in my left hand; swing the door shut behind me, and hit the ground running. I turn left on my forgotten, dead-end street and set a moderate pace for myself while surveying my surroundings. Thump, thump. The sound of my feet creates my own special beat in the warm glaze of the lonely night’s air. I run by the familiar houses, seeing televisions glaring in the windows or people talking on the front steps. Even though my street is free of traffic, I stick to the sidewalk.
I get to the main road, cross, and turn right. Thump, thump. I continue my pace, which seems a bit more brutal after the initial few minutes. My ipod faithfully delivers my music choice for the evening, soft singing and guitar music, which was quite unorthodox considering the situation. The nighttime calls for something less intense and upbeat, for something slow and mellow, but something that will make me run faster than ever. The singer croons in my ears, "and why do you sing hallelujah, if it means nothing to you, why do you sing with me at all?" Thump, thump. I run faster.
I stick with the sidewalk down another side street, wheezing slightly and tripping on the uneven sidewalk. I wish for shorter sleeves, having misjudged the night’s temperature. Darkness is not synonymous with coldness. I cross the street and continue running on the other side, basking in the few moments free from the confinement of the sidewalk. The song ends and another begins without fanfare; I hardly even notice. I turn right onto another main road, curving around a strict brick wall. I see cars whiz by, and I think of the people inside. Where are they going? My breathing becomes heavier, and my clothing becomes coated with a mixture of sweat and the thickness of the air. Thump, thump.
The sidewalk ends and I resort to a bike lane on the right side of the road. I begin my descent down the slight hill near the water, look over my shoulder for a fleeting second, and dare myself towards the double yellow line the middle of the road. Two lights glow ahead of me and I turn my head again, only to see a car heading down the same hill. I swerve back into the bike lane and laugh to myself, contemplating how drunk I must’ve looked to the driver. I do not focus on the bay to my left, but rather on the pavement ahead of me; it is where I am going.
The road and bike path end and my only choice is to take a sharp right up a hill. The music still blasts in my ears: "no love, no glory. No hero in her sky." Thump, thump. I will myself to go faster, but the hill wears me out. My pace is slowed considerably, and I focus myself on the level part of the road that seems just beyond my grasp. I finally conquer the hill, but it takes me a while to regain my previous gallop. I alternate between running in the street and on the sidewalk, and finally settle on the street.
Thump, thump. I see the corner of my street, the end of my destination. I run slightly faster, because I want to get there faster than ever before. It seems inches but yet miles away. Thumpthump. I run faster and faster, until I am almost at a full gallop. My eyes are fixated on the yellow "dead end" side covered in stickers, reflecting its mustard color to the car behind me. I count the number of steps I have left. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. I stop. My run is over, but I still must walk the length of my street to cool down. The music continues "love, it taught my to lie. Life, it taught my to die. So it’s not hard to fall, when you float like a cannonball." I float down my street, pause halfway, and take off my headphones.