Run On Sentence

Running.

I've been running for about 7 years now. There’s something definitely transcendent about it. Perhaps the rhythmic footfalls hypnotize me, perhaps the endorphins drug me, perhaps my swollen and tightening muscles cut off oxygen to my brain- but all I know is that when I’m running- I am on another plane of existence. I dream wildly and perspicuously. My logic is flawless- at least in my own mind- and my memory is absolute perfection as I can recall entire conversations to minute details.

And then of course there’s the adventures that happen on my runs.
I run at a time when most of the city seems to be asleep. The streets are empty- lights in residences are off and there is a peace and serenity- perhaps even a vulnerability to the city. More recently- My runs have been before sunrise- which contributes to the oneiric feeling of my runs.

A couple of interesting experiences recently-

A few weeks I was running through the rain and howling wind one morning- it was the tail of a hurricaine that decimated Florida a week before. In the darkness- I passed a lone old man who seemed to materialize from vapor- and as he passed me- He honked.
He said “Honk Honk!”
I didn’t want to be rude- so I answered back with out breaking stride: “Honk Honk!”

Yesterday I as I was running down Yonge Street- I decided to turn down Rosedale Valley Road- And then ran down the dimly lit path beside the empty street. The odd car whizzing by- but there was absolutely no one on foot anywhere. I was alone in the world and if I stopped running- I too would die and humanity would be but a distant memory.

As I whizzed down Rosedale Valley Road under the precipitous cliffs and bridges hanging high above me I practiced my German.

That’s the point: I don’t speak German. Well- I do speak my own brand of German- I just add “in” on the end of every 3rd word.

“Ve isht happyin for runnin unt runnin in die Mornin.”

Then I reached the end of the RVR. I happened across a path leading into the darkness. I start running down it. Running into the unknown- I’m blind, but I’m running so I’m safe. Nothing can touch me. I cannot feel pain. I have no fear and I quicken my pace as my eyes adjust from the hazy glow of the street lit boulevard to the absolute blackness of the abyss in this lonely park.

Up the winding path until I come to stairs.

I run up the wooden rickety stairs leaping up two at a time. The wooden structure moans with every hoof beat, but doesn’t sway. up uP UP! How far do the stairs lead? I don’t know- There are no lights. My eyes can barely see the steps in front of me. The staircase winds left, right, left again until I reach the top.

I am in the middle of a black park- I stop- I am panting. Fuck- I’m lost. There’s a wolf nearby. No- it’s just an extremely large dog- someone’s pet. I see the owner.

“Where am I?”
“Honk Honk!”

No - as it turns out- I was at the very Eastern Tip of Wellesley, so I took Wellesley down- through Cabbage town, through the Village to Yonge.
The sun started to break as I ran past my place and pressed the button on my watch to stop counting as I start walking and commence my cool down- I check how long my run was.

One hour- three seconds.
What a beautiful way to start a Thursday.