nine miles

So I reached a ceiling I couldn’t break through if I kept smoking. It’s funny that I pictured the movement as upward instead of horizontal. After all, I run on the ground. I do not run straight up in the air.

Anyhow, all that is material is the barrier of smoke in my lungs. Ashes, coal, destruction.

I ran nine miles a couple of days after - sometime in May. Nine miles on the treadmill. A friend told me since she would have died of boredom. It wasn’t boring, actually. It was not exciting either. It was non-descript.

Nine miles is so little. Just a little bit more than a quarter marathon. Seven miles felt exactly the same way. A little bit over a quarter marathon. I guessed I’d feel different at 11 or 12 miles. That’s almost a half a marathon. A milestone.

It’s amazing how exacting we can be when splitting hairs. And how blind we can be when looking at essentials.

I decided then I will run a half-marathon on September 3rd. I was not nervous at all. It was simple and right.

I was at work, and could not think of anybody to tell, but I emailed Robert, and asked if he would be at the finish line to cheer me on. He said yes.