The slow run

I go down the stairs, open the entrance door, go through the backyard, and there it starts. <<Diiing>> at a push of a button, time starts to flow differently. The gray buildings fly by; people move around in storms; red light. The city’s sound intensifies: <<VOOOOOM>> smoke and dust rise; the morning race is on. Green light. I jump over the tram rails and follow the narrow straight line to my destination.

I swirl between people, dogs, trees, and benches. The road broadens, and the disorder increases. A big bunch of pigeons is eating breakfast in the same spot, right in the middle of the road. I advance slowly, trying not to disturb them. The line outside the pharmacy is shorter than usual – are people getting healthier?

The fastest route to the entrance is cutting the intersection diagonally, probably causing a mass collision. Fortunately, if you hurry a bit, you either catch a green light to the right or in front and then vice-versa.

I slow down to catch my breath and enjoy the park’s vibe. I always find it a bit different, or maybe I’m in a new state of mind. My concerns and thoughts change the colors of the real world. But the reverse is also true: the matters of my mind get mixed and diluted in the new environment.

The view of the lake opens up, and 27 steps later, I’m down on the track. On the soft red path, I run on autopilot. My mind decides on a tempo, and my legs start to follow it. My eyes keep taking pictures: a family of ducks, a mom with a stroller, little kids feeding the swans, the ice cream places, and a guy with a cat on his shoulder. My mind takes notes and labels each photo; the collection grows with each few hundred steps – it’s called “Life.”

I went full circle; where to now? I go past the stairs and attack the hill while cyclists amp up their adrenaline, going down without a hint of a brake. I’m at the top, holding my camera open for a few last frames before leaving. I snap them and head to the intersection. The route back is the same, just that I’m taking the other side of the road.

The vortex halts, and time sits still for a second while I stop my timer—random numbers on a tiny display but nurturing images in my soul and peace in my mind. This is what I love most about running: the feeling I have in the end after I’ve seen and discovered life in yet another way.