Haiku / Run
Clear sky, bright moon, frogs by the thousands — one owl, one road, deep breath, footsteps. . [ 1406 ]
Tag Archive for ‘Running’
Step by Step
At seven millimeters, my new huaraches are the thinnest, most comfortable I’ve worn. And after a few walks to get used to them, I’ve now taken them for a run. These sandals will likely be the last bit of footwear I use, as I gradually ease into walking and running entirely barefoot — because I’ve realized that for me, the best, most comfortable, most reliable shoes I can wear are […]
Without Arms
A slow run in the cold starry hour before dawn — up the hill, past the old couple’s crocuses still closed for the night, looking like color specialty shops where love models scarves and little boys wonder about their mother’s soft moles — to the corner, and then an eastward turn, ’neath streetlights that die as they burn — proud and solemn, trees without arms — without arms, without arms, […]
Distance
Drenched again. Lately I’ve been running on different streets so I won’t know how far I’ve gone. It’s like rubbing someone’s back: a little this way, a little that, following the crevices and seams, and then coming back around again, high, low, to turn again at the mole — what has any of that to do with distance? Warm rain — sweet sleep — apricot blossoms — someone rings the […]
Street Song
Shorts, a T-shirt, and another run through the dark in the rain. Fifty-two degrees, a joy to move and breathe. And then there’s the news: the neighbor’s overflowing gutter, a streetlight out, a car with a for-sale sign, the sound of distant geese. Wet arms, wet face, wet hair, wet feet. Nations come and nations go. Rally ’round the flag — a mother’s grief, her bloody sheets, her once-bright tablecloth. […]
Death Valley
When I came in from running in the rain and wind, the house knew exactly where I’d been. Why didn’t you take me? it said. I looked around the room — the books, the desk, the paintings, the photographs, the antique odds and ends. You’re right, I said. It’s like a desert in here. Death Valley. And the walls closed in, with all their strange perfume. They held me close, […]
The Light and the Way
A frosty morning, the stars still out. The moon said, I am what I do, and I do what I am. And I ran and I ran, and I ran and I ran. . [ 1386 ]
The Wanderer
Twenty-five degrees. A pleasant run. I did have on a light pair of gloves. But the feet were free, and the toes, you see, came happily along. The wanderer roves from east to west, in his wake the icy wind — he gathers stars in his tattered sack, shows his back then lights his lamp again. . [ 1384 ]
Monkey See, Monkey Do
In addition to running, I walk once or twice a day. Sometimes, even then, I find myself almost running. Either way, I’ve been aware for months how the barefoot-and-huarache experience has changed the way I feel and move. After years of being tortured by shoes, walking and running is a joyful, pain-free activity that’s made it harder for me to sit for more than fifteen or twenty minutes at a […]
Running Meditation
I’m still running early in the morning. It’s nice to be out when it’s dark, with little or no traffic. Gradually, according to the body’s suggestions and requests, I’m opening my stride and increasing my pace, adding to the distance I cover and the time I spend out. My heart and lungs respond willingly and gratefully to the pleasant demand, as do my feet, my legs, and the rest of […]
William Michaelian 