Pounding the pavement with the drums of war

RUNNER
Japanese Drums (please listen while you read!)

5:45am
Alarm trills, beeps and chimes
prompting me bolt upright in bed, as if I were electrocuted awake
Slam, turn it off
touch my feet to the foreign floor of the hosts,
feeling my heart beat in my chest more than ever.
Contemplating my self awareness.

Grabbing hands clasp handles of my traveling bag,
the scent of home fills it
and the colour of opportunity unfolds in the days findings there;
what does it hint at–success or failure?
My hands pull out the offering of peppermint scented paste and skin tight pants.
the feel of them seem to prepare my body and mind for what is to come.
My toes vibrate, knowing that this is their time
they slide as easily into their little spaces in my vibrams as if they were well oiled machines, waiting for use.

Drive–
filled with as much electricity
as much anticipation,
as a day where I’m bound to be rewarded in some way.
And like a utility belt that hangs from the waist of a contractor,
I hang my courage,
my strength,
my undeniable desire to overcome any potential odds,
small or large
internal or external;
“now” marks the time.

Swigs of energy-filled water washes past my smiling lips,
running down my throat, into my body
reminding my internal fire to rise to the occassion, to grow wings at this time.
And with a Team Vegan shirt freshly pulled over my head,
my team mates and fellow runners teeming with adrenaline and enthusiasm only comparable to my own, we line up.

BANG!

We run.
Every step,
every concentrated breath finding it’s rythym in the drums of wars since past, I race.
The nerves,
the tingling sensation of watching my shadowed self moving, hair flipping, sweat trickling
reveling in the collective magnetism, the push and pull
the force that surrounds me is monumental.
It is earth shattering in the way that we are breaking the earth to it’s core,
our unified stomps and leaps tear through the shell,
exposing the heart.

Up the hills.  Legs steady.
Down the hills.  Lengthened and hurried,
the effort to gain time,
time.
I run with it,
all the while wanting to define it.
Know it, and overthrow it.

The last, final stretch.
Legs!  Excited legs and feet weak with blissful surrender in the throes of pavement induced lustfulness,
I throw it all to the curb.
I know full well that as I cross that finish line that it marks yet another glorious start.
Beginning.
Journey.

TIME.

Sweat.
Sore muscles ready to heal.
Strength found in numbers of runners around me, and the hardiness of my comrades.
I can’t help but know that this is never the end,
only more will come from this.
Beautiful strength and self certainty,
freshly reclaimed by pounding the pavement.

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