RUNNING
By Robin Shwedo
© Robin Shwedo, 2007
Every morning, I run.
I don’t want to.
I want to.
Ambivalence is part of the run.
I accept that.
But first, priorities.
Start the coffee pot.
Turn on the TV.
Matt, Meredith, Al and Ann talking to me. I miss Katie.
Get the newspaper from the driveway.
Put the neighbor’s paper on his porch.
Go back inside.
What’s Al saying? Snow in Denver?
Perfect excuse for not running.
Except there’s no snow falling in Florida.
I find my running shorts, t-shirt. Put them on.
Socks from the dresser.
Back in the kitchen where I fix a cuppa joe.
Sit down at the table.
Matt’s talking to somebody.
Who? Gotta find out.
Coffee and Today.
Put on my socks. No holes in these ones. Yet.
Put on my shoes. Should have another couple of months with this pair.
Sip some coffee.
Tie one shoe.
Sip more coffee.
Tie other shoe.
Sip even more coffee.
Another weather report. Still snow in Denver.
Still none here.
Al, Al, Al. You sure know how to ruin a cup of coffee.
Grab a bottle of water.
Find my running cap.
Take the front door key.
Open. The. Door.
Lock the door.
Shut the door. With me outside.
Head for the sidewalk, already tired.
Why is it I’m always more alert after my run?
During my second semester at the University of South Florida St. Petersburg, I had two classes with the same professor, one of which was titled "Narration and Description". One of our assignments was to write a short poem dealing with the body in action. This was in early 2007, less than a year since Katie Couric had left The Today Show. My better-half and I were disappointed when Couric left, but life goes on.
I'd been a runner for a while when I wrote this. And while I've slowed down quite a bit, I still love getting out to walk or run in the morning. Or, rather, I love how I feel when I get back from running. Getting out the front door, however, can occasionally be a challenge!
This poem is part of a collection tentatively titled Poetry for a Busy Life.
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