Running around and around and
Around a
Track
Allows time to get to know people
Without the burdensome responsibility
Of conversation and forced interaction.

Most of the time…

Three guys, same route,
Different paths,
Different inspirations.

The first, an older man,
Dealt a different set of cards
That allow him to be special.
He waddles around the track,
Each step more of a side to side
Than an efficient step to the front.
He’ll stop, scratching his back on a wall’s corner
And walk while expressing his gas
Without malice, but certainly gastric relief.

He’s amazing,
Never missing a day,
Keeping on his journey
Without impeding others,
Quite content going solo.
We spoke once,
About the beauty of Jamestown,
The original settlement
Being a place he loves.
Now we exchange simple salutations
And with each passing lap
I hope we’re sharing
Positive energy with each other.

I certainly draw it from him.

Another, guy, Type A
With a healthy dose of cynicism,
Does his workout
Reminding me of YouTube videos with Arnold and Sly
His body strong, his walking pace quick,
His fitness example exemplary,
But his negativity, a drain, motivational kryptonite
For me, a fossil fuel he burns with boundless energy
That pushes doubt, uses “Why?” to dismiss effort,
And allows “WHY NOT.” to be ignored or perceived as weird.

This guy, aggressive in personality,
Seemingly successful in business, unmeasured in opinion,
Full of the crooked smile that life is about living,
So far as it conforms to his raison d’etre,
Is one getting cursory courtesy from my developing social aura.
Running is tough enough, but for a recovering naysayer,
Being inundated with dirty exhaust
Can’t be good.
I know this and run my laps
With purpose, soaking his negative vibes in,
Diluting them with good energy, and
Recycling them into something that can help me
Get past what I once was.

I am learning from him.

The last guy,
With every reason to be mad,
As genetics and life’s planned obsolescence
Have left him walking
On a metal shaft,
Brings a smile to my heart each morning.
He is learning to walk again after an amputation,
He is still teaching us to live after his loss,
Never complaining,
Only relishing in the opportunity to keep going,
If he even talks about
His situation at all.

He encourages by example,
He smiles,
He is generous with his positivity,
Always showing the importance of hard work,
Himself, working with a purpose
That seems to accept his journey
As a continuum that is endless.
His soul is bountiful, his essence infectious.

I love running up behind this man,
Each step he takes reminding me of a toddler,
Sure on one side,
A swinging of a his new leg on the other.
He sways like the first guy,
Making me wonder if that is the key,
Learning to sway,
To rock like a boat in gentle waters,
Floating in a pool,
Or just realizing life
Is not a straight line effort,
One to be plowed through,
Rather we should rock a little
Taking it one positive step at a time.

I want to run with this guy.

Really, I’m there with them all,
Each letting their aura
Be true to them.
Each helping me on my way.
None are bad people,
Neither are they good,
They are themselves
Offering the world who they are.

I run with each.

Ideas can sometimes be elusive,
Other times, they land right on the table
Like a buffet of creative delights.

The last few days have not been effusive,
They have forced me to question if I’m able,
But the physical and mental fogs have left some insight.

Through it all, the thoughts are inclusive
Including the bizarre suggestions, more riff than fable
Suggested in the morning that is still dark as night.

Under the watchful eye of a gargoyle like lifeguard
Toes grasping the pools edge with a boney grip
A rag tag group of runners wondered openly about life’s directions.

Donuts, religious and hole-y, for the nutritional die hards
Sweetened talk of latex thermals and their potential to cause a sweaty drip
While baby ducks and chicks brought out backyard recollections.

Traveling for work, seemed for some, to be hard
Especially, if a train was going to be part of the trip,
But nothing stirred the emotion as did the gargoyle’s phalangeal projections.

Too often the ideas are elusive,
More frequently they land right on the table
Stuffing my day with a buffet of creative delights.

Reading about cold abilities
As my warm seeking sensibilities
Offer little in the way
Of winter adventure motivation.
Later today, I will run
Without the threat of hypothermia
Although, extra weight in the ruck
Will be a good indoor substitute.