A few more hours and I will have made it a full 30 days without nicotene. On Day 28, I ran four miles. I ran and I ran. I ran until the sky turned pink. I ran and I ran, the lines between the sky and the road and me all blurring together, kind of like the lines of reality sometimes do. I rand and I ran. It was not hard, but it was not easy either, a little like the road to being addiction free. I ran and I ran, propelling myself foward, pushing myself forward, one foot in front of the other. I ran and I ran, also being pulled forward, dragged along gently by some inexplicable force. I ran and I ran. I glided. I floated. I ran. It was both solemn and celebratory. Reflections mingling with a party in my head. Two clowns in a car--they didn't see me watching them. And I ran. I remembered lurking on a running discussion board a few months back. A lady went out for her run. A guy asked her what she was running from. He was smoking. She blurted out, "a heart attack." I asked myself, "what are you running from?" Everything. I answered. Addiction. Obesity. Depression. Just. Everything. And I ran. I remembered all the times I daydreamed about running. I joked with myself. Well, the running you did in your head was surely easier than the running you are doing on the road. And still I ran. And still it was not hard and it was not easy. It was just me, running. Running and running and running. Until the sky turned pink and all the lines blurred together. The edges of things, going away, softening. Ah, so this is what it means... taking the edge off.
