Asia’s Rain

Don’t run up Cheese Factory Road
on the second Sunday in January
if the wind has already beaten you
as you came up Palmer Hill.
You can sit in your warm office
in the late afternoon and search
the Internet for the word “cornice”
then browse through awesome pictures
of silver crystals whipping from the top
of a curled, white ridge, while dramatic
blue-sky backgrounds let you imagine
how fucking cold the photographer was.
At least you won’t be the one plucking
ice from your eyebrows and wondering
what frost-bitten earlobes look like.
You can Google that later too.
Don’t pretend that coming down
is easier than going up,
such thoughts are fools thoughts
when your mantra should be:
Wind-chill saps the body’s strength.
Let someone else berate themselves
for forgetting their face mask.
Let someone else drink Gatorade slush
in their last few miles.
Then call me and tell me how you
drove past some poor bastard struggling
up Cheese Factory Road.
I’ll be soaking in a hot bath,
but I’ll still pick up the phone.

At mile twenty-three
I feel something wiggle
inside my left calf,
like a fetus kicking.

At mile twenty-four
I begin a list
of all the things
I don’t care about
right now:
the election,
my stock portfolio,
world peace.
My left calf is not
on the list;
the fetus has grown
and kicks twice.

One mile remains
and three-hundred-eighty-five yards.
My left calf has miscarried.
I cry at the loss.
My right calf has apparently
also conceived.

The crowd cheers me on
like a mass
of birthing coaches:
You can do it!
Come on!
Almost there!
Push!

After three hours of labor
there are no miles left,
no yards.
I cross the line exhausted.

I have given birth to nothing
but I am as proud
as a new father.

My strength is in my practiced cadence
that strides long over pot-holes
and short down intermittent curbs
all equaled out on the long
long straight flat distances
that take me out beyond
familiarity.

I have no memory of this place
the map edge of my mind warns
here be dragons
but my strength is practiced cadence
which pays such scant attention
to my rational/irrational mind
that there is not even
the small laugh of irony.

The pain begins before I am aware of it
as it too is subsumed in
the strength of my practiced cadence
but my doubt is stronger than
my faith
and fear of how much damage
I may do to myself
is only dulled by the knowledge
of my pre-determined time.

As the alarm approaches zero
I wonder if my soul would dissipate?
If I would find the spiral
into some other place
where all I am at present
becomes meaningless–
speed, pain, time, breath
and strength
the earth-bound strength
of my practiced cadence
I am not even torn
or slightly distracted
as the timer beeps
I turn around
and head back
to the place
from which I started.

One night as the Spirit of the Earth and the Spirit of the Sky were walking together, they saw something they had never seen before–a Man.

The man was asleep.

Both Spirits fell in love with the man.

“When he awakens, I will call to him to come and live with me,” said the Spirit of the Sky.

“When he awakens,” replied the Spirit of the Earth, “I will call to him to live with me.”

When the sun came up, the Man awoke.

The Spirit of the Sky called to the man: “Come live with me!”

And the voice was so sweet and strong that the man leaped into the Sky.

Then the Spirit of the Earth called to the man: “Come live with me!”

And the voice was so sweet and strong that the man stretched his legs toward the Earth.

All day long the Spirit of the Sky called to the man and each time he leaped into the Sky.

And all day long the Spirit of the Earth called to the man and each time he stretched toward the Earth.

The man followed the voices of the Spirits all day long until the sun went down.  Then, exhausted, the man fell asleep once again.

The Spirit of the Sky and the Spirit of the Earth saw that the man loved them both equally and that he would wear himself out if they continued to call to him.

And so the Spirits of Earth and Sky left the man.

But as they left, the man awoke and saw them disappear together over the horizon.

The man ran to the horizon, leaping into the Sky and stretching back to the Earth.

He ran all day, but the Spirits of Earth and Sky were gone.

The man wept.

But then he realized the gift of running that the Spirits of Earth and Sky had given him.

And from that day on, whenever the man wanted to feel the love of the the Spirits of Earth and Sky, and whenever he wanted to show his love for the Spirits of Earth and Sky, he ran.

And that is how the Spirit of Running was born.