We run in the dark:
Just me and T, our feet slapping the wet pavement.
We run through quiet streets still aglow with holiday lights. Bright orbs as big as pumpkins bob from the trees — a neighborhood tradition — and as they sway gently in the six-o’clock dark, their reflections shimmer in the puddles.
And my body hurts, but suddenly it occurs to me that I feel completely and totally alive.
*
It seems fitting, to be writing about running today. When I first began this little series, some twenty-nine days ago, I was writing about running, then, too. And now, the circle is beginning to close.
And I’m tired.
As I round the last bend toward the hill I call home, I’m tired.
I’m tired of December and its rush of parties and events and food and drink.
I’m tired of writing.
And running.
And a lot of other things too big to put into such a small post.
But this is the kind of exhaustion that feels good, somehow, if only because it proves, in its way, that I’m living.
And I don’t question the feeling.
*
I slow to a walk as I make my way up the hill to my house. In the waterglimmer, the little bicycle-spoke lights I’ve laced into my running shoes glow in the dark:
Left foot blue.
Right foot red.
Blue.
Red.
Blue.
Red.
My footsteps are slow now. My hair is a mess, my breaths ragged, but that’s okay. I accept the messiness as something beautiful in and of itself.
I accept the tiredness as something beautiful, in and of itself.
I accept my aging body as something beautiful, in and of itself.
I accept … myself.
*
I go home and I take a hot shower.
In my little writing room, I sit down and write a messy blog post, and I accept that messiness, too.
I unlace the bicycle-spoke lights from my sneakers and switch them on in my palm.
Their glow is so small, but still: I’m switching on lights in the dark…
And for today, that’s enough. ❤
Beautifully written
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Derrick. And happy new year to you and yours!! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reciprocated, Ashley
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautifully poetic! The way you describe the aching of your body and the fatigue that tells you that you’re living reminds me of how I feel on the third or fourth night spent out too late in a row. On that final night, when I drag myself home after an evening art class or after staying at a restaurant until closing while talking to friends, it takes so much effort to simply climb the stairs to my bedroom. Every button of my pajamas that I manage to fumble through its hole feels like a triumph. Yet, that exhaustion is so delicious, I could gulp it in and still hold my cup out for more!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love this. All of it.
And girl: I’m glad we found each other this year. Believing in the very best things for you in 2016!! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I could say the very same right back to you. I’m so grateful for you! And I am also believing in the very best for you in this New Year!
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
^now look, you made me smile!
LikeLiked by 1 person