Pigs are flying.
Hell has frozen over.
These are facts.
How do I know this to be true?
Tonight, on the way home,
after feeling just a little sick all day,
I had the compulsion to run.
So - calling my brains bluff -
I tightened up my backpack,
tossed my scarify jauntily over my shoulder,
and I ran.
Not only did I run,
but I ran easily
and for a long distance.
until finally I willed myself to stop.
Not because I was tired
or physically uncomfortable,
but because the overt and disturbing strangeness of it all.
I don't run for the bus.
I distrust anyone who runs as a hobby.
In fact, I consider running to be on of my sister's few faults.
A person like me simple does not,
in any sense or shape,
just suddenly become a runner.
Especially when they are looking 40 in it's smug little face.
It's just not natural.
So I pondered that maybe I had died,
or possibly there was a glitch in the matrix.
However, I still had a yearning for spaghetti
so I wrote those options off as unlikely.
Still, the desire to run nipped at my heals.
I wanted to fly along the rice paddies,
like I used to fly across the tundra.
I fought it.
I wandered slowly
in a lazy pattern.
Yet, even as I bounded up my stairs
in anticipation of tonights coverage of arial bacon and a frozen hades,
my mind lingered outside in the cool autumn air.
I just wanted to feel my feet floating across the ground once again.
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