Giving shape to time has become important, especially since the future is so shapeless. We don’t know how long this virus will continue to plague our world or when we will feel safe again. Until then all we can really do is at least create the illusion of movement in our lives. My summer plans of doing research at Tech quickly turned into weekly literature reviews and lab meetings about stuff I don’t really understand. Reconnecting with people became three-hour facetime/zoom/bluejeans calls that have drained my phone battery and perpetuated a constant “didgeridoo” noise from my laptop (according to Brother Dandavate).
I find that I have to run early in the morning to avoid the crowds of blithe young people who cluster on the grass in the parks. Under the warm buzz of the sunlight, I feel my weight sinking against the ground, fighting the earth to keep me upright. My shoes hit the dirt rhythmically- each step is loaded with silent meaning.
I enjoy running because it provides me with autonomy as the world around us slowly becomes unhinged. I want my home to be the horizon, and the horizon to be my body, so I am limitless and asymptotic, a toothless dinosaur. A self-made cartographer, scrawling the forests of my destiny in the margins of maps. As I run through the gravel roads of the park I remember the cross country practices I had on that trail. I would wake up at 5:30 am every Friday and sluggishly climb into my friend’s car that was parked on my driveway. After warming up with my team on the track, we were free to run anywhere we wanted to. While my body adjusted to the challenges of winding paths and steep inclines, my mind was free to drift, to sift through whatever needed sorting or disposing-the upcoming day’s tasks, school stress, unresolved conflicts. Some days, I would veer off the trail with a few friends just to run-up to the top of a hill and roll all the way down. I felt somewhat unstoppable as I was being propelled downwards into a directionless orbit; the world danced around me as I plummeted to the bottom.
I would so gladly go back to a time where I would be able to do that. So far my own quarantine has comprised of a blurred succession of Chloe Ting workouts, classwork, and binging trashy reality shows like “Love is Blind”. It often feels like my days are droning on, essentially identical to the day prior. To me running is like music, capable of infinite varieties of moods. It is the dirt path, the most unusual frontier left to explore, where I plant my feet. I am home in possibility.
Next, I would like to nominate Tanya Sharma!
