The Burning Legs

You know of their arrival. They make reservations, pack accordingly, and arrive on time. They are prompt.

You have a great run, an amazing run, a HARD run. Things are “running” smoothly.

Then you need to stop. Dead in your tracks. Things are stopped. You feel it as you place your feet on the ground after the lift from the bed.

Your legs are sore. Like really fucking sore. There is some anger, some fear, some disappointment. But they are here. They have checked-in and packed for 3 days. They are just getting cozy.

Maybe you didn’t run that hard and maybe you did. Maybe you have no idea how or why they hurt so much. Maybe you drank too much the night before. Maybe.

It is enough to worry about it all. It says something to stop. It says something to stop bitching and to start moving again; this is what it all feels like. Running, LIFE, whatever you may call it. This is what it is. There is pain and pleasure and so much more. There is everything.

So stand up and take the pain; take the burn. They are here to stay. Get up, get moving, and go for a run. They just might want to join you.

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