He’s been cleaning his room and running for the past month and, excluding the interruption of drunken hitchhiking, that’s been the entirety of his existence. He’s got the young man blues they say. In-between 17 years of school and…n-x number of days left to live where hopefully n is greater than x by a substantial quantity.
He’s realized where Forrest Gump attained the inspiration to just keep running. Sheer kiddie-my-first-butterknife-dull boredom. Run south one day, switch it up north the next. Attempt it without shoes and realize that calluses on the feet take longer to form than those on the mind. Chafing has become a major concern.
It’s as if he’s living the life that Bill O’Rielly speaks of…”the tides come in, the tides go out, never a miscommunication”. Runner goes in, runner goes out, then sits on his ass and has a beer, never a miscommunication because he has nobody to communicate with.
That’s ok though, give another 4 days and the shit will hit the fan like a rabbit dashing out in front of a stock car.
1 comment:
Keep up the running, just stay away from those racetracks...oh wait i think they call those freeways in L.A.
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