Running, Again? Running, Away?

I don't think it was a whim, but I don't know why I stopped out of the blue to buy new running shoes. I hardy run these days. But I did, and I shelled out the bucks for the new shoes (the current version of the shoes I've been running in since August 2004), as well as some fancy socks and a shirt. And then I came home, chatted with my flatmate, had a glass of wine, and pondered going to bed. Realizing that I should put those new shoes to use (if anything to justify the ridiculous price of 75 US$, I mean that'd do a long way for some friends back in SA), I abruptly stood up from the table, finished a generous gulp of wine, and went and changed to go running.

I put on my ipod to my running mix, the same mix of 164 songs that I've had for years, and set off. I turned the corner and headed down Route 5. I don't know what it was that took me back in an instant to that first night I ran in Dublin. Maybe it was running along a busy road (there, it had been South Circular Road), maybe it was the cool, misty night air. Maybe it was knowing that my legs were going to be sore in the morning, as I was biting off more than I should by hitting the pavement, but I felt like I'd gone back in time. And for a few blocks, maybe a mile (I wish I could say a few miles), I kept having flashbacks to my running progress in Dublin. After that first run, I couldn't run for a week. And then I ran around a park for a while, a meager few blocks, and then I was running more. Running along the River Liffey. Running through Dublin-no longer embarrassed to be out running. As I changed my running route, I discovered new areas to run in Dublin. New Parks I had never explored. New pubs which I made a mental note to check out, though usually forgot about once I got home. When a certain song plays when running, I can recall exactly where I was in Dublin during certain runs...

I turned the block, and ran past an Indian restaurant. And that triggered a flashback to a night when I went running during my intern year. A cold night. I'd run from my flat, down to the hospital, and around a neighborhood. I'd run past Gabby's house- and saw she wasn't home, and I wasn't sure why she and I had not talked in a few days-both busy I'd suspected. The Indian restaurant I was passing is where she took me for my birthday, and the conversation that night is permanently etched in my memory. We were going to make the world a better place. She wouldn't let me sell out, and as I ran, I thought what advice she'd be giving me now. "Fuck those job offers, are you kidding me, there are people out there who really need our help." She didn't hold back. And I miss that. She gave me coffee and a tie for my birthday. I don't wear that tie nearly enough. Maybe I'll wear it tomorrow.

I was lost in thought. Am I running to somewhere? Or am I running from something? For months I've agonized where my paths is going. I've solicited (both bluntly and circuitously) the insight from friends, sometimes hoping that one or two of them would pin me down and spell it out for me. Because I cannot see the path anymore. When my world crashed in July and August, all I could think of was Denver. On more than one occasion in the past 4 months, I contemplated flying out to Denver the following morning, fuck residency. Having the support from my family when I did see them in July, and the joy of hanging out with nieces and nephews, combined with the awesomeness of Denver made it clear, that Denver is where I thought I needed to go, and the ball was set in motion. On a Saturday in September, after Randall's memorial, I was sitting outside drinking margaritas and chowing down Nachos, surrounded by a great group of people; it was again evident that Denver is where I was headed.

I was lost in thought, until I saw a dodgy person on the sidewalk with a German shepherd. I'm in a residential neighborhood, in a safe part of town. This is not Johannesburg. I am safe here. He nods as I run past. More than once, in Jo'burg, I had crossed the street, or taken a turn and changed my path when I was running and saw a group of people on the street at night. It had taken me months to work up the courage to run there. I miss running in the nature reserve; I miss seeing zebras and wildebeests on runs. I miss Jo'burg, period. And then I heard Gabby again, and I wonder if I am running from the thing I really want to do, to oblige the banks who loaned me the vast sums of money so I could get to this point.

As I reach the driveway, the only Jewel song in this mix, Who Will Save Your Soul starts playing. I smile as I stretch. Maybe the answer is neither. I'm not running to nor from somewhere/something.

I'm just running...


BPB