A Sign

I went outside to run today. The whole day I was thinking about how I didn't really want to run, amongst other things. But there I was, tying up the old shoe laces ready to take a good old jaunt through town down to route 67. I say that as if I've made the run a thousand times. Truth is, I had to look up just how far the run was because I had never done it before. I’ve only officially been living in this town for four days. See I got the idea on the drive home when I passed route 67 coming the opposite way. I thought, hey I could use a nice run on this road for a change, amongst other things. So there I was, tying up the old shoe laces, which is something I actually had done a thousand times before, believe it or not. As soon as I stepped out the door, I caught a tiny raindrop and stopped running mid stride. I have this grand plan to run outside, thinking about it all day, amongst other things, and the damn sky decides to let loose the moment I step outside. I swear it’s like the weather's had it in for me lately. The other day, I dunno how long ago, I’m walking to my car and it starts to monsoon. By the time I got to my car, I was soaked through, no kidding. I had to go back up and change.

Anyway, I went back inside to check the weather. It was rain alright. So I went downstairs and dusted off the old treadmill. There was no actual dusting, but the thing was so old and so rarely used that it had collected years worth of dust. So I finally turn on Pandora and start the treadmill running. Took me a third of a mile to get my headphones and my phone situated. I'd been listening to music all day, and was about sick of it, but I turned it on anyway. What else was I supposed to do while I ran mindlessly? So I guess I'd been running for awhile, trying to think about a book I'd like to write. That's the thing with writing a book, you spend all your time thinking about it and none of your time actually writing it. Unless you're a book writer. I tried so hard to think up a book, that in the end everything just seemed corny and overdone. But who knows, maybe my idea was genius. See, I had just gotten around to thinking about how life is pain and defeat, life is nothing but pain and defeat and the occasional glimpse of triumph and happiness. Well, I wasn't sure if I believed that, but it seemed like something good to say in a book. I was running there, thinking about some corny football coach dropping that line in a speech or some corny crap like that. I guess I’m really afraid that if I tried to write a book, people would read it and tell me hey that’s great, and then turn around and say what the hell's wrong with that guy? I know I’m really not supposed to care what they think of me, but really I do. I try to act like I don't, I say I don't, but if I really didn't the truth is I'd still be acting the way I did in fifth grade.

I remember the exact day I decided to start caring about what people thought of me. I was in fifth grade in Mr. Fleagle's class. The whole year I'd been getting in trouble for goofing in class, always talking while the teacher was talking, saying weird and embarrassing things to whoever would hear them. It was girls that did me in. See I had these romantic tendencies where I thought I was in love. I'd say goodnight to my crush in my head every night before I went to bed, and then make up some fake dream about them telling me they liked me to keep my mind off the dark. See I was afraid of the dark and still am. Anyway, that day I was goofing in class again, and the girl I liked was right across at the next table. For some reason, I could feel her eyes on me, judging me. I realize now that I was just hoping she even paid attention to me enough to notice me goofing, but that was enough to set me straight for good. Since then I walked the line straight legged and toed and never deviated. I started pulling straight A's, getting in less trouble in class. By the time I went to high school I thought I was some sort of genius or something; I really did, and I had developed this striking fear of talking to girls. See, I realize now it was all a perception thing; if I thought a girl was better than me — more popular, more funny, more anything — I’d get all tongue tied and anxious about going near her. But see, if I thought we were on level playing field, I could talk and joke and laugh like any normal kid. I think I’m the same way today. Easily intimidated and I guess cocky towards those I think I’m better than. It's sad really, but it’s better than being a mute.

So I was running on the treadmill listening to composer music, you know Hans Zimmer and guys like that. I just started listening to them and I really think that music is the closest thing to beautiful I'll ever hear. So I’m running to the music, trying to think of a book idea, trying to think about life. Thinking about life is always tough. You always end up right back where you started. It’s just too big for me to wrap my head around; I dunno about you but it really is. You try and figure it out and end up more confused than when you started, and feeling real weird and nostalgic or something, I can’t really explain the feeling, but I think everyone’s had it at least once. It’s the kind of feeling you can only get when you’re alone. I’d know if I saw someone else having that feeling, and I can say I've never seen it. But I get that feeling a lot.

But anyway, I was getting real into my thoughts before I realized I’d run three miles already. I was really running pressed on time, my brother wanted me to make him this website and I’d said I’d do it, but I hadn’t much started it yet. So I stopped running. Three miles is enough. But damned if that music didn’t pick up as soon as I stepped off that treadmill. I stood there, my legs a little heavy. It felt like waves were rippling up and down through my body. It felt unreal man. I certainly had never felt it after running before. I hate running. The music kept picking up and I have these really dramatic moments when the music picks up where I imagine I’m in a damn movie or something and my heart starts pounding and my body pulses. I do it on purpose a lot, ‘cause there’s no other feeling like it.

So I turned that treadmill all the way up to ten and hopped back on, all dramatic and heart pounding. I was movin’ man. I was pickin’ my legs up, lookin’ straight ahead, not even tired at all. My brow furrowed down and I thought a second about how dramatic I was being, but I forgot about it ‘cause there’s no other feeling like it. And then just as I was getting into the swing of it, the damn treadmill stops running. I look down and the damn thing just says EE2 or something.

I stepped off the belt and thought, well there’s a sign if I’ve ever seen one. I thought about looking up, as if God had something to do with it, but it seemed a little too corny. But then I realized I had just been thinking about writing, and thinking how could I possibly write about anything interesting if I’ve never really experienced anything interesting. And I thought, well that’s an experience in a weird sort of way. But maybe I’m just looking into it too much. Either way, it felt good to sit down and write about it. Every time I try to write, I spend so much time making it perfect, that it just comes out forced and corny. This may be corny too, but hell, if it is then my life is corny, ‘cause this all really happened and I wrote about it moments later.