the run

Chapter 2
(The Run)

I lay awake in my bed wondering about the day to come; glancing over at my clock on the night stand I see 3:08 a.m. in bright blue numbers. Knowing sleep is not welcomed I decide a run will shake all these uneasy feelings off. Getting up I through on my black under armour compression shorts with pink fitted tank and my running shoes, and head to the kitchen for some bottled water.

I have to deactivate the house alarm to leave the house. Ever since we moved here my parents have been keeping a tight watch on me; they did not know I had the code. My parents can be dense sometimes. They made the password my mother’s graduation date from college. That was a great accomplishment for my mom. Once outside I slip into the driver seat of my new car an Audi A4. This car a hush car, they don’t want me stirring up trouble in our new town and bring attention to ourselves. We already have the spot light on us. My mom is a big shot lawyer who defends criminals all along the east coast. My dad is a cosmetic plastic surgeon who also does pro-bono work for wounded soldiers. They don’t want me bringing up the past; “we are here to move on Ivy” mom would say when I start to have one of my panic attacks.

I slowly backed down the drive and on to the main road in our gated community, once outside the gates I put on Linkin Park and head to the bike path. We have running paths in our community but I can’t stand to run with the stay at home moms and the out of shape dads who think they are in shape.

When I get to the path I park my car on the street, put my iPod on Evanescence and start to run without warming up. I decided 2.5 out 2.5 miles in. I never used to run. Since my unfortunate encounter I decided I need to learn how to defend myself. I picked up running and kick boxing. I never knew this could be so cathartic. I paint when I’m stuck in my head, but when this happened I did not know how to express my anger and rage. Running helps and when I am feeling particularly violent that when kick boxing comes in.

I can already feel the burn in my calves and I am not even half way there. My lungs feel as if they are going to explode but I keep pushing. I need to learn to push myself. Would that have happened to me if I kept running? If I knew how to fight? If I didn’t think life was a party and was ready for anything. Anger coursing through me I spend up, feeling my second wind kick in. I see a person ahead of me. Its 4:30 in the morning I normally don’t see people out here running, but I’m new and this could be a regular I haven’t seen.

I am coming up behind him and notice his perfect form, wide shoulders and muscled back since he is running without a shirt. The light on the bike path is revealing he has tattoo on his back and biceps. Tribal tattoos and a few other symbols I can’t make out. I am now trying to pass him and he is keeping pace. I don’t want a running partner but he is making it hard not to keep pace with him. My damn curly hair is getting really hot on my head and starting to come out of it ponytail, I huff and blow a curl out of my face and I hear him chuckle. That’s when I dare to glance at him he looks like a herculean god in my eyes. He looked to be at least 6’3 to my 5’7 thick black hair cropped around his face, lips not to full but they make you want to bite them all the same. He had thick eyebrows that may have been professionally waxed. His nose looks as if it has been broken. Then he smiled at me and I wanted to laugh aloud. Teeth, his teeth were beautiful, I love teeth for some strange reason; I am always looking into a person mouth when they are talking and wondering if they take good care of their teeth. I gave him a small smile and picked up my pace. He waved to me as I left him.

On my way back I thought I might get a better look at him see the color of his eyes the shade of his skin. I got back to my car, body on fire and trying to catch my breath. I got in the car drank two bottles of water and went home. Before going in the house I decided to visit my studio in the back yard. It was the size of a small ranch house. It basically was a house. We had it built on the property. It had a small kitchen I can cook in, three bedrooms, 2 with no beds, and the rest was open space. An easel was already set up waiting for inspiration to hit. I began to paint.