The Face
S.M.
I fixate on the pavement beneath my feet. Focusing on gravity and the weight of my body, I perform the rhythmic cadence of the run. I concentrate on my breath and keep myself from floating away. I question my own thoughts. Which is it? Trying to keep myself from checking-out and floating away? Or trying to keep myself afloat? I finally break a sweat now in the southern humidity that arrives as early as April. I know the runner’s high is not far behind and the endorphins will follow. By then I won’t sense my feet pounding the pavement that so centers me once they hit, but my body will feel strong, and temporarily indestructible and tireless. It’s an even trade.
I round the corner of Third Street for the eighth time this morning, peering into the centralized park that the ne
