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She's Free And She Runs |
| Written by August Blackwood | |
| Friday, 28 March 2008 | |
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Share it:      I'm running down the hills. It's a very bright evening. I love it. I feel the wind blow against my face. My legs feel free. Actually, my entire body feels free. I am a woman and I'm free. What does that got to do with being a woman? Nothing at all. I'm a butch and I'm proud of it. What does being butch have to do with that? That is nothing, either. I see a man running as well, right beside me. I didn't see him before, when I started this running. I have no idea why he's running. I just see him there, moving like the wind, his long brunette hair flowing. Sweat is dripping off his forehead. I can smell a little body odor, but who cares? He's running. What do you expect? His hair is a dark brown and his blue eyes glitter in the sunlight. They are a different shade of blue than I've seen in the eyes of other blue-eyed men. But, maybe that's because of the evening red sun. It makes his eyes look a little greenish. Wow, I think to myself. I am amazed by what I see before my eyes. But, I have to focus on my front view so that I won't hit anything as I run. I jump over a large stone. I've jumped over a bigger one before. This is no problem. I've been on this marathon for most of the day. The pills I took this morning are giving me energy and are helping my body to not go into shock from the strenuous labor. I had no idea there were other people there. The letter said this would be an individual, private marathon. But, what is the purpose of a race if you're not competing? Who knows? I love running, whether there is a purpose or not. Heck, I could run for miles without someone to cheer me on. I have to look on my side, just to get a glimpse of the man again. He's beautiful. He's downright gorgeous. Why am I looking at him? I ask myself. I have to concentrate on this. This is no place to be in a dreamy state. This is serious, this is fun. There is no way I would give up my passion for a man. Men always ruin womens' lives. They always do. And if there is someone out there that doesn't believe me, he or she better get into a relationship with a man and he or she'll understand quite clearly. My last marriage was a wreck. My husband was so mean, I thought I was going to die. But, that won't happen anymore. I am smart now. I divorced. I am myself. I will always be myself. I'll live for myself. I'll die for myself. I can feel a presence on my skin, eyes watching intently. It feels prickly and it is very uncomfortable. I look to my side again and I notice that the man isn't there. I feel my heart sink a little. The sun is falling and my feet haven't gone tired yet. The pills are still affective. The dude is gone. I'll probably never see him again, I think. I wonder if he's gotten farther than I did. If he did, I would definitely feel jealous. I'd want to pass him. No, not pass him. Maybe side by side would be good enough. But, not behind. Well, maybe not in front of, either. I keep running, but my thoughts are on that guy.He was so beautiful I can't keep him out of my mind. I am so stupid to be thinking about someone else. I haven't thought about someone else before in this career. The time monitor on my wrist is ticking and everyone watching television must be looking at my speed as it is displayed on the bottom left part of their screen, seeing how I've slowed down considerably when occasionally looking to my side, wondering if I've come any closer to that beautiful man. They are probably laughing at me right now. But, I can't risk anything. I have to show my audience. I have to show them what I can do. I have to show them that I'm worth something, that I'm no longer a house wife. I'm a runner and I'm free. "She likes the boy! She likes the boy! She's so butchy, she can't like a boy. He'll never like her. She's a runner!" I can hear them cheering in that way over and over again in my head. This is so embarassing! I'm getting exeptionally nervous. I'm sweaty. I can feel my legs shaking with each step they take. The pills are working, I know. My body's just tired. After this marathon, I'll probably get a whole week of cramps. I anticipate the goal. My breath is getting uneven. I'm not breathing correctly and my sides start to hurt. I'm too side-tracted. Damn you, Joan, damn you. Concentrate. I'm gasping for air now. It feels as though the air is passing straight through my head and I'm getting almost nothing. I'm not breathing enough, maybe. I don't know. Even with the pills, I have to breath correctly to prevent this. Breathe out two times, breathe in two times. Not "breathe out, breathe in". That's the way it's supposed to be. But, I'm gasping. And I'm breathing out once and breathing in a long once. ****. I see the goal. It's getting closer as I'm clearing the curve around the trees, through the trail. And just when I am about six feet away from the horizontally hanged ribbon (the goal, duh), my foot slips on some wet grass. I crash down to the ground. I can imagine the audience laughing their heads off. They are definitely laughing. I know it. They're probably cracking their stomaches hard watching me fall by the goal. I don't really need to reach the goal, but falling despite the pills ain't impressive. I'm breathing like I was holding my breath under water for about an hour. My lungs feel like they're going to tear open. I mean, I know they won't. But, it feels so painful to be breathing in so much air all at once. Not to mension that my throat is getting really dry. And just then, I hear a man's voice. "Congratulations. You have passed the world record." "What?" I ask, looking up. I look up and I see the man I saw earlier. I'm speechless and I feel dissy. I think the pills are starting to lose their affect. He lowers his hand for me to grab onto, while he says, "You were the fastest woman to run beside me." "What?" I say again, in a very raspy voice. Then, he helps me up and raises my hand and hands me the metal. Speakers cheer from helicopters flying above us. "Joan! Joan!" they scream. My audience are yelling from their sofas. I'm glad, but I need to get some rest. And I need to get it NOW. A man in the helicopter speaks through a microphone and says, "She did it! She really did it! She hit that speed inspite of that hunk of a man, as my wife puts it.I don't think the ladies would have disagreed with that. She has recieved the Gold Metal and now she will get her prize. Her prize is..." I can feel my eyeballs popping out. This is unbelievable. What is the prize?, I wonder to myself. The man beside me puts his hand on my shoulder and turns me to face him. His touch is soft and it doesn't surprise me much. It's like I'm being moved by wind that I can't feel. Well, I'm tired and the pills are wearing off, so my senses are probably weakened anyway. He says, "Me." And I wake up. My husband is snoring beside me, my fat, obnoxious, worth-nothing husband. I'm still married. ****, I so need to get on with my life. Copyright 2008 August Blackwood |
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| Last Updated ( Saturday, 29 March 2008 ) |
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