Thursday, May 13, 2010
The Feet of a Runner
They start the morning tired, crackly. It feels like all 26 bones need to stretch and crack, wake up. With each step down the creaking stairs the joints wake up, the foot wakes up and loosens, preparing to carry the body farther.
Sitting on the front stoop the feet reach and stretch feeling the cool cement under the toes before being confined into the shoes, the shoes that will help it carry farther, They are covered in cotton and squeezed into a running shoe. They are secured with tugs and pulls on the laces and few bounces and ankle rolls and they are off.
Pounding the pavement over and over in a rhythmic succession. It's quiet except for the frogs and birds and the constant pounding, pounding, pounding of the feet on the pavement. Minute after minute, mile after mile. The terrain changes form pounding pavement to a dirt path, a softer thumping sound to the harsh pounding. It seems to fit into the early morning surroundings better.
Than almost as if the clouds are weeping for the pressure on the feet it starts to rain, a light misty drizzle at first. The feet slow a minute, debate, turn or continue? They push on, it's just as far to finish as to turn around. They pound faster, hit the first puddle SPLASH!
Water starts to seep in. The toes curl a bit and feel the ooze of water soaked cotton and the lining of the shoes. The rhythm changes to a pound, splash, pound, pound, splash, pound, splash. Less rhythmic, more sporadic. Pounding, splashing, soaking. They turn the corner and leap up the stairs to the refuge of the covered porch.
Shoes discarded. Wet socks peeled back. The feet are blanched, wrinkled, a hot spot on the big toe shines bright red. These are the feet of a runner. They take a beating and keeping on going, pounding, pounding pounding. The clear the mind, move the body, lift the soul.
This is prompt 2 from MamKat's Writer's Workshop, you can join in here.