Sparks
Rising in the frigid, inky darkness of a winter morning, we who are training do not wait in vain for a feeling to begin running the miles. The feeling will come once we act, once we lace in, step past the airlock of the front door, set our faces defiantly into the miles. These mornings mirror the same black dawns of my youth when I first began to run, first learned these lessons in the laws of inertia. I was raised in an evangelical, doomsday cult. Thoughts were deeply influenced, acts of individualism were controlled and the end was always near. One had to create hope from nothing. Running before dawn was my first act of freedom, an act of defiant creation, a prayer to my own god, my own movement on the surface of the deep.
Rising in the frigid, inky darkness of a winter morning, we who are training do not wait in vain for a feeling to begin running the miles. The feeling will come once we act, once we lace in, step past the airlock of the front door, set our faces defiantly into the miles. These mornings mirror the same black dawns of my youth when I first began to run, first learned these lessons in the laws of inertia. I was raised in an evangelical, doomsday cult. Thoughts were deeply influenced, acts of individualism were controlled and the end was always near. One had to create hope from nothing. Running before dawn was my first act of freedom, an act of defiant creation, a prayer to my own god, my own movement on the surface of the deep.