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A Field Of Force

July 1, 2010


I do not just run five miles — I travel to the fifth dimension. When I am back, thing are different. The house does not look dirty, the silk ruffle top I lost in Florida shows up in the laundry, and a dinner party fits comfortably on my calendar this weekend. Impossible things happen, I do not know how. I enter a field of magical energy that rubs off on me when I run.

I open my mail before I leave the house, check on tweets, listen to messages, watch the breaking news. I list the disasters in my head, then go out to ponder. My legs just run, my abs and arms pull me up to the top of the overpass at North Avenue Beach, my ears listen to the lyrics, and my mind is free.

In the running zone, I overturn all my rules and find contrast everywhere. I drip sweat, I swallow tiny bugs, my face suffers, I sink my shoe into fresh mud. I have no makeup on, my hair has frizz. I feel beautiful. Special Forces of shirtless runners dash by me and I scoot to the shoulder of the path. Later, I pace strong, as two gentlemen in XXL T-shirts holding mega cups of blue ICEE, stop, smile, and give way.

I admire the small, the large, the slow, and the fast. On a bridge, in open air, I am going west to the soccer field, where below, a traffic jam of steel, glass and plastic, is moving south into Downtown. I move along the x-axis, the cars cruise along the y. It is the intersection of the axes that conceives substance, that attracts positive charges to my positive electrode and defines my potential.





Art: Garden of Senses, by Bogdan Chesaru, available under Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative license

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