The Empty Road

If you have been following my blog you know that a little over a month ago I ran the Louisiana Half Marathon in Baton Rouge. It was a wonderful experience and a great step forward on my way to reconnecting with the sport of running. Since that race, I have not run much. Maybe a couple miles here, and a couple miles there, but nothing serious. It didn’t help that the weather took a turn for the worse (for Louisiana). Now that the warmer weather is upon us, I think its time to start running again. I probably won’t have a training plan or any weekly goals, all I want to do is enjoy each and every run.

I don’t know if this was a step in the right direction or not, but I have enjoyed focusing on other aspects in my life. I think I am starting to hit my stride as a  platoon leader in the Army and I have started to find other enjoyable activities such as photography to keep me busy. 

The street lamps flicker and one by one start to give way to the rising sun, revealing a desolate stretch of road before me. Not a thing moves in this first light, as the path lays bare well beyond the horizon.

As I stand there, I can hear the road calling out for someone to come pace up and down its length again. Calling out for that old, familiar feel of feet pounding the pavement. Calling for anyone to make a memory upon it extent.

Yet, before I move, I also feel the tug of the blackness to my back, pulling me away from the all to familiar path. Telling me it can wait, telling me it will be there tomorrow. The tug is hard to ignore as I know it doesn’t lie, there will always be a tomorrow, the road will be there.

But for one morning I need to pretend that there is no tomorrow. There will be no other time to run this path and make another memory. The sun and the wind will never feel the same if I come back tomorrow. This desolate road might not be abandon anymore if I come back tomorrow.

As I delay starting for a second longer, the blackness feels like it has won over. But in that second, my body begins the gentle rhythm of a run and the blackness begins to fade away.

Later on, as the blackness accepts it fate and departs completely, the memories start to form. And for the first time in a long time the empty road is no longer empty.

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