Restless

Silent chaos pushed against every inch of my body. I winced at a pain that was not there. In a daze I found my running clothes and shoes.

Restlessness pummeled my stagnant blue veins with the ferocity of a champion heavyweight. The souls* of my feet left the pavement anxiously. Fresh exhaust from lawn mowers and minivans overtook the heat waves jumping into my nostrils. Trim lawns and the smell of fresh cut grass left a bitter taste in my mouth. I wanted out. It wasn't some cry into the night, "I need to find a road out of the suburbs!". No, this was an unrelenting bar fighter in his drunken state, battering the inner walls of my stomach, building calluses for the next fight.

In my subconscious, I was not tired of my life. I have a strong love for both my family and friends. I do not have a stressful job. I did not hate the streets I lived on. I love to live with a passion that makes me appreciate all that I have. I hold some undeserved God-given knack for finding beauty in any context. I still saw beauty in the 5 sunflowers that managed to break through worn out soil in my backyard. I still saw beauty in the children running in uncontrolled bliss from house to house. I still saw the beauty in the old couples walking at dusk.
But that bar fighter continues his turbulent blows. And I am left wanting to continue running on that path, right on out past the other developments, past the gas stations and trucks stops, past the interstates and rest stops.

I have a reoccurring thought...Where ever I end up, the people and the places will all eventually be the same. It shows up in one part of my mind. This thought does not scare me. In fact, it propels me. It only increases that curious drive inside of me. Another half of me expects everything to be refreshingly different. I have faith in my self that I will never let myself get too comfortable in my surroundings. I have only been idle for two days and already I am ready to jump back in, camera in hand, beads of sweat on my brow.

I push myself harder. My legs take me to a big hill on the road and I begin to run faster. My mind shifts from the pavement to the sky. Abba, Father, God, make me dismiss thoughts of stopping at the halfway point, make me run far past the top of the hill. Be in my aching joints, my restless mind, my nervous fingertips, my stagnant blue veins.

I hope that bar fighter never leaves.