runners

Dear one,

I always thought runners were doing a sacred, mystical thing I could never understand.  Seemed so pure, or like asceticism, a hair shirt, finding enlightenment through pain.

My high school best friend was a runner.  She invited me to run cross country with her–I laughed.  But I guess I’m still thinking about it.

In my mind’s eye, I can see the slowest runner who ran cross country.  She was a little bit fat, a serious white girl with freckles who always looked like she was in pain.  But she was doing the thing.

I had considered taking her place.  If I had joined, I would have been the slowest.

Maybe I would have enjoyed the sports camaraderie that looked so appealing, from the outside.  I’m clumsy and never found love like that.  Also, I thought sports were meaningless and a waste of time.  Runners seemed very different from me.  I knew nothing about pleasures of movement and the body.

Back then, I wanted to be a head.  I thought I was destined for professor life–I imagined myself in an office at the University, surrounded by books.  The body was an embarrassment and where death comes from.  I wanted nothing to do with it.  How silly I was, and smug.

I can imagine other lives, but they seem unlikely.  I weigh 330 pounds, or did last time a medical assistant checked.  My knees are precious, and I would kiss them, if I could.  My ankles have always been wimpy.

Running is something I remember from elementary school as torture, the day we would run the mile.  Those orange slices a mom would bring, to comfort us with brightness, and making myself drink water.  Keep running.  I would cough and cough.  Looking back, I think I had chronic bronchitis, but no one was paying attention.

I thought maybe I would become a runner one day, but I’m doubting it.  Old friend I barely know, I admire your resolve and feel sorry for the French tarts who don’t get to read with you in bed or experience the inside of your mouth.

Oh wait, that’s me.  I feel sorry for myself, I don’t get to read with you in bed or experience the inside of your mouth.

love,

Nest