Some days, it is like this. I step outside, and the breeze flows over me like water. I inhale, drinking, the air, and it quenches a thirst in me as deep as that for water, and my feet begin to irresistibly step, step, step. I feel twitchy with energy, with the need to be out here, with the need to stretch my legs, to run. The sun dazzles my eyes, and I step, step, step, and turn my iPod up louder. "Success is my only motherfucking option, failure's not." My feet pound through the pavement, feeling loud and heavy and strong as bombs, as I plant them down in time to Eminem. Lose yourself.
Some days, it is like this. My feet turn over almost of their own accord, carrying me up and over the 11th Street bridge, rhythm never slacking. The breeze picks up as I crest the bridge over the Anacostia, and I drink it in. Today, I am strong. Today, I am fast. I am at the top, and flying down the other side, light on my feet, agile as I navigate the sharp turn in the path at the bottom of the bridge, my feet tapping the pavement.
My iPod conspires with music that makes running feel like dancing, my legs springy, as I step, step, step, dance, step. I shake off a muscle beginning to knot in my shoulder, I ignore my hard breathing, drown it in the music and the strength in my steps.
Even at the end, slick with sweat, breathing hard, my legs feel they could just keep going, the sun dazzling my eyes, swallowing the wind like water. Some days it is like this.