sun in my lungs.

(a not-so-great-at-all video taken with my camera last winter, but you can see the swoop of the waxwing flock & hear them calling...)

I think what I've always liked best about running is how when I first set out, I am acutely aware of every muscle/tendon/nerve/fibre in my body... but after 8km or so, I've completely forgotten my body again. I think my body is especially responsive to endorphins, & I've always been blessed with the ability to reach a runner's high rather quickly. & so soon, I am just of the spaces between footsteps, breaths; there is such a boundlessness that I love.

(poem-draft that explains it)

running the body remembers
the winter days when i held
the whole sun in my lungs,
pulmonary fires light the bellows
of the heart, glowing echo of
a river’s crackly breathing.

running i remember my body,
re-member its limbs & its lilt,
music like a jaw-harp sprung
the pluck of the veins
and the foot’s muted drums
& then it’s lost again

to the swoop of the flock
of waxwings midstep
each stride a sharp breath,
wingbeats disappearing into
sunlight, embalmed with the
inhale, exhale into ash:

running i slip aside like ice
moving swiftly downriver,
each stridelength leaving
bones dissolved and avian
& i am ready, headcocked
with reflexes slight as lightning,
beleaguered arms becoming wings.

running i outrun myself,
through the body i am left
with boundlessness, i am
chased by my own trail
of muddy footprints, through
the slush & april smoke,

running i pull apart
with each exhale, inhale,
tiny little balled-up stars
in my pulse, between the cells
and myself, that white pulsar,
earthbound instrument left burning

as a thought, a stalk of rivergrass,
lit like silver aspen candles
on bleached white branches
& reaching like a birdflock,
breath held on treetops then
exhaling into giddy blue sky --