The Runners

I am a Seer. And I run. I run, you run, he runs, she runs, we all run.

He was indeed running. While listening to an audio-book for learning French. Which was probably why his mind had switched into grammar mode and had played a trick on him. I am running, you are running, he is running, she is running, we are all running...

Damn it all to hell. So what if he was? Two years, two whole years had elapsed, and still he couldn't make up his mind whether he was trying to run from something or run towards something or just run blindly for the sake of running.

But he was a Seer. And he saw. He saw so many things, with such amazing clarity, it sometimes hurt. And other times it just hit him like a shock wave, making him stagger on his feet, even as his legs struggled to keep him standing.

Just run and don't look back. Never look back. What's done is done and you must live with it.

But was he really living? Was he?

This train of thought managed to piss him off. He had no business rehashing the past. Hell, he had no business being there at all, running by himself, when he absolutely hated doing anything by himself. Sure, he'd just finished lacing up his running shoes " his brand-new, shinny, fancy running shoes " when Brett had called to let him know he could no longer make it to their run. Stuff had come up, he'd said.

More like some woman has come up. Or has just come, he half-grinned to himself. Trust Brett to drop everything for a quick roll in the sack. Not that he could blame him. Wouldn't he have done the same?

This time the grin was real and strong. He shook the head at himself. No, he actually wouldn't have dropped a friend just for the sake of some random woman. Which didn't mean that...

He stopped running. He checked his watch and confirmed he'd already logged in a healthy 5 k. The rest of his workout he was determined to share with someone. A soft, warm, giving woman, followed by some beer and maybe chips. He had worked out, after all. The muscles of his legs, throbbing with pain, were there to prove it. He started towards his car, already thinking of the hot shower waiting for him at home. Already imagining the water running over him, the scent of his favourite shower gel, the touch of her small hands gently massaging his shins as she knelt in front of him in the tub to lather him from head to toe...

Ah, damn it all to hell and back! How had she slipped into his fantasy?

Exhausted and frustrated, he took out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. It took him less than two minutes to find a satisfactory result.

Hey, in the mood tonight? Hit me up after work, we'll go get beer and chips after.

A woman, yes. Soft, warm, and giving. Any woman, really. Just not her.

And still, as he got behind the wheel and his phone chimed to let him know he had received a reply " he didn't even bother to check what it was, women never said no to him anyway " he didn't quite succeed in killing all thought of her.

What was she doing now? Was she running too? Was she running?

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Was she running? Hah! Even when she felt in top shape, her running was more like a jog. And a slow one, at that. Although her body begged to disagree. The pain in her legs, her aching knees and ankles, the side stitch she could never get rid of, no matter how hard she trained " make that no matter how hard she tried, not trained " her racing heart and burning throat, they were all vocally claiming that she was, indeed, running.

Running, running, running, ain't running from myself no more...

She suddenly slammed the brakes on both her car and Beyonce's song playing in her head. Oh, she had been running indeed. In fact, she'd been this close to running into a car which had unexpectedly switched lanes in front of her...

Good reflexes, girl, she congratulated herself, with a smile so sad it brought tears to her eyes. Then again, anything and everything brought tears to her eyes these days. She couldn't seem to do much to stop them. Running helped, of course. For a while. Apparently the body wasn't quite able to do the crying thing when you managed to convince it you were running from a life-threatening situation. Running for your life, so to speak.

Still, right now I'm only running for my pain, she said to herself bitterly, parking the car a few meters from the entrance to the park. Not even from it, but rather for its sake. As if I needed to nurture it somehow.

Well, wasn't she a prime example of utmost wisdom? Of course she was running with and for the pain. She'd tried running from things before and it had never worked out. Never. Not once. If anything, running had always ended up messing everything up, making it worse, so much worse. Pain, she could live with. But she had, once before, let the pain transform into fear by trying to escape it, and boy had that been fun.

It was all her fault. All this time, she'd been given so many choices. Each time, she could have chosen to act out of a place of love, still, more often than not, she'd chosen the fear.

And where had that brought her? she asked herself again, while a distant though warned her it would be a good idea to warm up a little before starting the run. Nowhere. In fact, it had brought her to a place a million times worse than nowhere. It had brought her here, she reflected, quickly deciding against the warm-up and starting her run. Or jog. Or whatever.

Here, at the point of no return. Here, where I have known happiness, I have known love like no other, and cannot " will not " go back and settle for anything less than that. 

Here, where she felt her life might as well have ended, since...

Ouch!

Where had that branch come from? Right. She'd forgotten she was running on a forest trail and, what do you know, it would have been kind of smart to watch her feet, maybe? Never mind. She'd avoided the fall and, frankly, it had all turned out for the best. She had no business thinking anything along the lines of her life ending. Or, even worse, of ending her own life. God knew that was a dangerous path to walk on. In fact, even leaving God out of the equation, she knew better than anyone exactly how dangerous it was.

Because of her mom.

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Tracy most definitely wasn't running. If anything, she risked running late to her mani-pedi appointment if the damn coffee-maker insisted on taking its damn time in making the damn coffee. Which tasted like crap, anyway.

Growing impatient, she stormed out of the office kitchen on her surprisingly comfortable 3 inch heels and took out her phone to call her assistant:

"Amy, be a sweetheart and go get me a cup of java " you know, actual coffee " from the café down the street. Yeah, might as well add a doughnut, it's not like it's going to ruin this gorgeous body of mine."

Having settled that, she returned to her office to make sure no last moment tasks had come up while she'd been busy trying to get some coffee " if you could call it that. She certainly couldn't. No one who had any standards whatsoever could have called that coffee. And she certainly had them.

Standards, huh? Well, she was entirely entitled to be as picky as she chose to be, seeing how she was such a bright, beautiful, confident woman. And strong. Definitely strong.

Strong enough to face even the guys who thought there was no harm in trying to remind a woman that she belonged to them. Or so they though, the poor fools. She gingerly touched a spot on her left shoulder. There was a bruise there and it still hurt a little, even though it had started to heal. Tough love, they called it. Well, there hadn't been much love involved, but it had been tough. Or rather rough. She grinned, remembering the passionate and downright violent sex she had enjoyed right after the fight. Except it hadn't been a fight, not really. James had only been really tired that night, and that had made it hard for him to control his jealousy. So yeah, he had yelled and he had threatened, and at one point he'd grabbed her shoulder with such force, she had thought for a second he might break her bones. He hadn't. He'd merely pushed her aside and called her a w***e. A stupid, f*****g, cheating w***e. Then he had literally jumped her bones and hadn't that been lovely?

It had. James did things to her that other men would have been incapable of. Good things. Mean things. Sexy things. Painful things. Dangerous things. Thrilling...

Not like that wuss of ex-husband of hers who hadn't even been able to raise his voice at her, let alone touch her. Who, despite looking like a Greek god, had turned out to be a boring and predictable lover, a weak and annoying life partner. And smart, too, she had to give him that. Brilliantly so. But hadn't she outsmarted the little bugger anyway? She sure as hell had. More than once.

But she didn't want to think of him now. She didn't even want to think of James. He'd left on a business trip that very morning and would be away for two whole weeks.

Which could only mean one thing. For Tracy, it was play time.