South Florida, New York discussed on Meditative Story


It changes me for a couple of years. I feel almost a mobile. But one day i pulled some old sneakers out of my closet. They're not even running sneakers but they carry me a few blocks another day. I jog a few more. I keep at it running. I start to see can take me to a different place inside my head a place where i'm the writer of my own story years later here. I am in key largo with this. Strong body is built. The world narrows to just a few meaningful details like the peanut butter sandwich waiting for me at the next stop. I'm still chuckling about my dad. He and my mom are divorced but they are here together to support my run. This run is my own journey but it's also a family affair also on a high from meeting a man last week at a party who i'm sure will become my husband. She feels the same way. Because after three days he proposes. I'm running in a very long straight line but i feel like i'm being held in a circle of love. I grabbed the peanut butter sandwich from my cousin and pour water on my head. I have twenty six hours to go. Many miles in the spectators have been and the runners are no longer close together. I jogged straight. Slat stretches seeing only south florida as usual wide asphalt roadways pastel condos strip malls selling sunscreen and flipflops. My family has our routine down. They leapfrog me and we repeat the same drill. I feel solid in my body. I'm trying not to go too fast or too slow but just forward step after step by early afternoon. It's face melting really hot. I've been training new york all winter and spring where it was twenty degrees cooler at mile. Forty my uncle says you still have a long way left. And we all stare daggers. At him he learns the first fifty. Miles are uneventful. Which is good if you're having trouble in the first half. It's going to be that much harder to keep moving. The sky slowly darkens without much color. It must be sunset. I've been running the whole day. The air rushing in and out of my lungs feels cooler. The sweat moves through my pores on my forehead. I tune into my body for a quick scan. My legs don't hurt my feel swollen but not too bad keep drinking. I think i need more salt. I want those pickles mostly. I am focused on my next goal. Just get to the bridge. Just get to the rich. It becomes a mantra matching my pounding footsteps. I have to get to the seven mile. Bridge around mile seventy before a certain time and the bridge will be hard because it will be dark again and no support. Vehicles are allowed to stop around miles. Sixty i can feel hot spots starting to burn on my feet. The beginning of blisters usually changing shoes and socks are enough to prevent this. But this is the furthest. I've ever run at one time at the aid station. My mother a doctor ministers to me applying powders and oils and petting my leg. As i leave her for the next stretch as always she knows just what i need without a lot of words being spoken. All gestures convey one message. You can do this.

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