A Blogovella by Ezzie Dryar (Anne Martin)

2. Runner’s High


lonerunner

It’s that time again, I’ve been working too hard and have been struggling without internet this week, or partly without at least, and my computer guru was out of town, I HATE DIAL-UP, and it hates me, all the sites that I frequent are really heavy on the graphics and that makes them slow, slow, slow, the way I like my sex, oops, did I slip that in again, I told you I had it on the brain, anyway, this one isn’t going to be a case of verbal masturbation, I was disappointed with the feedback about my last stream of consciousness extravaganza, I think that most people didn’t know the music or people I was discussing and, well, it just didn’t do it for them, but it did it for me, this is almost like a drug, just pouring out whatever is in my head, not stopping, not allowing the thoughts to settle before sprinting on, for it’s a sprint, can’t look back, it’s a runner’s high, the best kind, like you are floating above the ground, you are too tired to go on, but you keep running, going faster, you’re tired, but you know that soon you’ll pass the threshold, the second wind, it’s almost like a freak orgasm, you don’t know until after you’ve had it, you are concentrating so hard and then suddenly you are wet, wet not like sweat and it feels good you pass your second wind/orgasm and you wonder why you even considered stopping, you pick up the pace and the world seems to rush by you’re focused in the zone you are running your best split your best time and you push on faster and faster you consider another mile another lap you feel strong invincible you push harder your mind races you forget that you are running or were ever tired that problem you had it’s gone solved you are so focused maybe you remember last night’s sex wonderful I always come back to that I always want to come back to that it’s what keeps me going going through the day through my run even when I have no internet no man no time I’m still focused but not on running only one more mile then I can shower because whatever raw thoughts come to my head explode into being in the shower with the water dripping soap dripping shampoo wet and squidgy slick slippery like sex I’m back there again I never left I never leave I never want to leave the water runs and runs and my stories coalesce my brain is still running even as my body relaxes I’m wet oh so wet in the shower and it’s a warm comfy feeling and I never want it to end the ideas keep coming like adrenalin until I have a whole chapter bursting in my head, but I don’t have time, no time to write, working too much, too hard, I have to reconcile myself to pretending that I’ve been writing and the ideas go south where it’s warm without me, and I turn the water off, it’s over, I’ve crashed down, I’m spent, no sex for me today

 

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