Run

I went on a run today.

Plugged into my portable disco, the first few steps felt effortless. Pretty soon, the smooth blend of vinyl and electronica eased its way into my step, and nudged my still-lively steps into a synchronised prance. I had this faint recollection of myself sitting in a pub somewhere, my lungs panting slightly in the dank blend of machine and tobacco smoke and my eyes squinted against the incoming neon arrows. I was chillin' then, but that's exactly how I feel now -- on the run.

My music was an easy chillout mix from the Ministry of Sound. And how fluid this electronic whisper was, always giving in easily to the demanding rigidity of the run yet nudging my mind to disengage from the physical experience. Come hither to a universe of bubbled tranquility. Oh I was in my own world, breathing with and to this intimate electronic heartbeat. Step upon step, the fragile bubble of peace reinforced itself and reassured my mind of its continued existence. But all it takes is for a familiar sound, one that synapses with emergency, anxiety and danger -- any sound. The bubble is burst, and my peace is assasinated. Within a few scattered steps and panicky glances, I regain my form. Within those few scattered steps, my ears are captive to the hypnosis of my chillout mistress.

The music, she is like my guide.

As the run wears on, I become accustomed the enveloped tranquility and grow more aware of my body. I noticed that I run with a perculiar emphasis on my right side -- only a slightest hint of over-exerting on the master-limbs. Ah, the traitor is in the swinging napsack strap. The right strap appears to have a life of its own and clings to my right sleeve on each upswing of my arm. My left is expectedly indifferent.

The music, she is like my lover.

She is fickle, but she has my attention. She plays a tune to me just long enough for me to begin appreciating its exoticness; then she leads me on with a trailing rhythm, only to coax me into a different song, so that I would miss the one just past. She knows how to stir my blood with a simple and subtle change in tune and rhythm. She holds her pace just long enough for my breathing to catch on. She lets me work my body with one she throws to me. Then subtly, I am at her mercy, because I cannot move to another; she works me now, to a different beat. And she makes my heart want to race, with this subtle change.

With and for my music, I run faster.

Then, she leaves.

And I am where I started. Home.

I went for a run today.

I returned from a journey instead.


JKLM