Primal Stride

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Dear Janet,

I’m sorry if I hurt you when we parted. I was still angry about what happened with Katherine and I needed distance. I know it’s not fair to group you with all the others. I’ve tried not to. I think you’ll agree that it was just us on the bridge last night.

I first met you at a Burger King in Lawrence, MA. I’d been working all day and had stopped with a few friends for some food on my way home. I caught a waft of your scent as I walked into the restaurant. My friends bet that I wouldn’t have the nerve to meet you. They said I couldn’t handle you. They said you were too much for me and that I wasn’t man enough for you.

So I asked for you. I knew I didn’t need you but I wanted you. You were expensive. I didn’t care. I had a point to prove and you were soft in all the right places. You were a steaming blossom of heaven in my mouth. We were meant to be.

For a few minutes, it was just us: Three BK Quad Stackers with cheese and me.

My friends were amazed. They couldn’t believe I’d actually got your number. You’ve been #362 for me ever since. Well, until last night.

Last night I took you to the bridge and said my final farewell.

I’d eaten precisely what I needed that day. I was fueled but still running very lean. No caffeine. No alcohol. I wanted to feel everything as you left. Looking back, that may not have been a good idea. I cried when you left, Janet. I know I was the one pushing you away, but it still hurt me.

At 6pm I put on my running shoes and took a quick drink of water before heading out. I paused before my apartment to crank up the volume on my iPod. I listened to a lot of techno when I first met you so it seemed appropriate that Tiesto would spin the soundtrack for our last conversation.

I began to run.

I sprinted to the bridge. I ran without warming up, gasping for air, pushing forward. My lungs hurt, my legs felt like sponges. Why, Janet? Why this? Why do things that start so warmly have to end so violently? I cried for you. Some of my tears were from exertion, some for the years of frustration you brought me, and a few were in relief that you would soon be gone.

I kept running.

As my legs warmed up and my breaths grew deeper, my heart no longer thought I was running in terror. My stride lengthened and I ran faster. I pulled the cold night inside myself in giant gulps as if I could truly feel the oxygen carrying you away. I hated you. Oh, how I hated you! By conservative calculations, I left you in the shallow water on the side of the bridge near my home. Some bored fisherman might pick you up with a day of heavy drinking. You won’t see me again though.

I’m still running.

Seth

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