Inhale … Exhale.

It is cold—bitterly cold. My face, shaven and bare, is scoured red and raw by a chill-bitten wind. My fingers tingle even though they are wrapped in gloves. Icy wind rips through layers that fail miserably in their resistance. Yet, I press on, my breath hot and heavy in the still dark hours. Puffs of fog with each exhalation, but I cannot see them, the moon isn’t bright enough to give me that luxury. All I know is the sting of inhalation, the cold that seeps into oxygen starved lungs. Inhale … exhale.

The pond looks beautiful this early in the morning, a glaze of ice and snow twinkling in the twilight. The streetlights only enhance the aesthetic. Mute amber light, not great to navigate by, scatters its glow across the placid surface. My heart aches ever so briefly, a touch of nostalgia unbidden. I never knew streetlights in my youth, but something in their frequency reminds me of days gone by. Crazy where the mind goes when you let the run consume you. Inhale … exhale.

I am halfway done. The corner that marks the third leg of the journey is just a few houses away. The rhythm of my breathing is steady now. I have fallen into the runner’s gait: the long-haul endurance that will see me to whatever end. My face still burns with the cold, but my internal furnace has overpowered the chill. Now it’s only a test of will, a battle against flickering thoughts. Nearly done. This hurts. It’s cold. Why didn’t I explain that better? All snapshots of emotion and logic wrapped in little packages that war for space. But I push it all away. All that matters is the next breath. Inhale … exhale.

I round the final corner, the flagpole that marks the finish line. The halyard and its snaps clang off the pole like they are heralding my arrival. It’s far too early for that racket, I think, wondering at my neighbors’ thoughts on the matter. It’s a distraction; one that carries me to within viewing distance of my mailbox. ONE … FINAL … PUSH. Inhale … exhale.

I pour what energy I have left into my legs, forcing them to carry me faster than my lungs desire. My feet pound the pavement in time with my breath. All extraneous thought disappears. Only my destination—only my goal matters. It’s pain and drive wrapped into a physical oblivion, a deliverance from anxiety. My foot crosses the line, and sanity returns. My breath is heavy as I begin pacing near the pond.

“Hold your hands above your head,” My old track coach tells me from the recesses of my mind.

I can hear the distant roar of cars; the world is waking up now. But I still have a few moments to look out over the placid pond. I look up at the lightening sky; a tinge of purple breaks the black of night. The moon gazes back down at me, and, in an instant, I feel so finite in this infinite expanse. It’s not a fearful thought, just one of awe and majesty. Oh, the places you’ll go, I echo the late great Dr. Suess. And, with a final, calming breath, I recognize it’s time for another day. Inhale … exhale.

Thank you all for reading! Stay tuned next month for more shorts and tidbits from me.

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Or if you’re so inclined check out my high fantasy series, Gods Adrift, available on Amazon or possibly through request at your local bookstore (pssst that means its available wholesale to commercial entities through IngramSpark).