Feeling Insignificant in a Significant Sort of Way...

The following is something I was going to blog about anyways, then my professor for my summer class (yeah, I'm in summer class coz I'm hardcore) asked us to write about an experience in a particular sort of way that resembles poetry. The assignment is too difficult to describe here (we spent an hour or so talking about it) so just go with it and don't be surprised if it doesn't sound like my normal writing style... Also, sometimes I use adjectives and nouns as verbs and some other unconventional grammar, it was part of the assignment, so don't take it too seriously. Kind of a weird piece. Also the title is sarcasm. =)

I wrote about running a couple weeks ago, what followed after I ran, and the weird inner-workings of my brain. Enjoy!

Feeling Insignificant in a Significant Sort of Way

Sitting on my porch with laced shoes and iPhone in hand. I press the giant red button in the center of the screen. "Start Workout." Set off at a lope, hoping that time is on my side tonight. The clip-clop of my shoes echo across the empty street. I increase my pace. I think I’m positively flying now --until I see the silhouette of a bird pass me overhead and I realize I’m not flying, just running. Tasting the heat from my lungs anyways so I stop - and walk. Stupid bird. It’s a breezy night. A few others like me are out enjoying the endorphins. The usual smile, nod or hello is exchanged. They dress in layers, like we live up North. I like feeling the outdoors and the sweat on my skin, like I’m really in sync with nature, really working hard. My shorts and tshirt allow that exaggerated feeling. I wait for headlights to pass and then flow into a run once more.

This time the helloing and smiling comes more naturally. I’m getting better. The heat doesn’t rise up as fast. This time the bird makes me laugh as I fly across the grass, cement, or road.

Just to the stop sign, I think. A homeowner waves as I pass. She’s definitely feeling the outdoors like me. Her garden gloves are covered in earth, her stature shows she spent all day in the yard. As I dizzy, I remember to breathe and look forward. Basics. Only another block, right? I keep telling myself that. But it’s a big block. No cheating, just finish it.

A few complicated dance steps over uneven sidewalk. The thought of injury or stopping in this weather presses me on. The sun is already down. It will only get colder.

Tick-tick-ticking of sprinklers I don’t bother avoiding, just cover my iPhone and it’ll be fine: slap-slap. I forgot about having wet shoes… Stop thinking!

Clip-clop, echo my feet.

I break my rule of non-thinking to check my iPhone. Ok, only two more blocks will set a personal record. My body whines. Here we go.

A black and white furry tail followed by the turn, curious blue eyes and pink wet tongue. “Aw, is that a husky?” I can still talk, this is easy. The owner doesn’t hear me and I’m already passing him and the smiling wolf-dog. My shoes clip-clop against silence again.

I sprint the last few meters as my calves protest yet delight in my success. A personal record and I feel great!

I’ve reached traffic. Loud. I turn back and begin my walk home. The sweat is still hot on my skin even though the wind is not.

As I come around a bend, onto the grass, so does the bright, rising moon. The moon is huge when so close to the earth. Actually, it’s the size of the stop sign ahead. I take this (ironically) as a sign, and stop. My inertia catches up with me and sprawls me into the grass.

My warm sweat from running mixes with the cool grass and it tickles the skin. It cradles me. I stare up above at the evening sky. No stars quite yet. Just listening to the wind in the trees and watching the few clouds that pepper the sky. I feel like I did when I was a child, just watching clouds. I have never felt so alive. The grass is tall enough to make me wonder if anyone can see me, or if I have truly melted into the earth. As a bug crawls across my elbow, I feel as though, maybe, I have. Over me, beyond the blue expanse I imagine the stars and suns and worlds flying jillions of miles away. We’re so small. I briefly feel insignificant, lying in the grass attached to a beyond huge rotating planet—hanging on for dear life as we wildly hurl throughout the solar system… --“Is she okay?!” A slowing car and a concerned voice brings me back from my rather odd daydream.

“Her eyes are open… She’s fine,” another voice replies with fear and relief in her tone—perhaps she’s a mother. The car pulls away. I realize that while I was experiencing all of the universe and cosmic space around me, I was worrying the passersby who only saw a jogger lying awkwardly in an open field, potentially passed out or mortally injured. Maybe I am finally suffering from what they call a “runner’s high.”