Random Acts of Prose

When I took this picture my intent was to focus on the small creek. By chance, I was able to capture the road and the yellow lines that seem to suggest infinity. I love this picture because it reminds me of the beginning and middle of possibility. I created this story to illustrate that possibility the photo has captured. Enjoy this random act of prose...

The Road

Ten miles. It took Erving Wilson almost one year to reach the ten-mile goal. It only took six miles for him to experience the fabled runner’s high. It was intoxicating. He could feel adrenaline pulsating through every vessel in his body. He could hear the sound of his heartbeat pounding over the music in his headphones. The music became irrelevant. His breath suddenly became rhythmic and calm. His head was so clear and focused that he could literally visualize his thoughts. Sweat poured from his temple, cooling and soothing his entire body. For the next four miles Erving stayed in this perpetual consciousness of exercised induced bliss. It felt so good that as approached the last half-mile of his run he made a decision that he would impact the rest of his life.

Most of Erving’s life he was overweight; overweight and depressed. Running was never an option; it wasn’t even a consideration. It wasn’t until Erving found himself in a hospital bed resting after having been intubated and resuscitated that he realized that a life-style change was inevitable. At the young age of thirty-two, Erving Wilson suffered a heart attack. His doctor informed Erving that his five-foot nine-inch frame couldn’t handle the two hundred and ninety pounds that he had put on it over the years. His heart had doubled in size to compensate for the extra work that heavy drinking and excessive eating had caused. His arteries were clogged and his cholesterol was the same of an unhealthy man twice his age. Lying in the hospital bed, Erving became acutely aware of the fact that his life was not what he had dreamed of. He looked around the room and saw no flowers, no cards, and no remnants of any visitors. There was no one to wish him well and no lover to soothe the literal break of his feeble heart. Erving secretly wished that his heart attack were fatal.

Erving found himself staring into a mirror a week after being released from the hospital. He stared at glasses whose black frames could barely hold their thick concave lenses. Beneath his glasses were almond colored eyes that seemed to have a constant pink hue from enlarged veins. His mustache grew wildly out of control and seemed to seep into the corners of his mouth. His brown thinning hair was already sprinkled with grey. Despite, what he professed to himself, it did not look distinguished. Erving’s ears were simple and slightly protruded from his head and beneath layers of fat sat a jaw that should have been square. His father’s was square. His father’s face and life were immaculate. Erving was not the image he had of his father; he was far from it. As he stared at his reflection, Erving decided that he would have to make a decision. He decided there had to be a reason that he was given a second chance at life. He decided that he would follow the doctor’s orders, his new diet, and would start to exercise.

The first day was the toughest. With every step he took Erving could feel the weight of his body being tossed around like a rag doll. His breathing was audible and labored. Every few steps he would stop running to nurse an aching back and throbbing knees. Erving looked down at his shoes and couldn’t help but laugh. They were the best that money could buy and the guy at the sporting goods store assured him that they were perfect for “heavy runners.” One mile; that was his goal. He just wanted to complete a mile without stopping and without feeling as if his heart was going to explode. He walked. It was the international sign of defeat for any runner, the realization that running was more of a challenge than he prepared himself for.

It took thirty days to achieve his goal of finishing a mile. It was the best feeling in the world to cross the threshold of one mile from where he started without stopping. The image he saw in the mirror slowly began to change and so did his outlook on life. Erving stuck to his diet and sought every opportunity he could to exercise. At work he opted for the stairs rather than the elevator and he even managed to get his hands on a few dumbbells. Things were finally looking up for Erving and he was committed to slowly and carefully changing his life for the better.
Five miles down. Five miles, no stopping and no heavy breathing. Running became more than a hobby, it became a lifestyle. Erving identified himself as a runner and pursued it at all cost. He would not allow the rain or anything to stop him from his daily run. Food was no longer an indulgence it became fuel for running, a necessary component of the bigger picture of a new life lived on the road.

At mile six he saw her. Over the course of the previous six months Erving would increase his route by one mile in the same direction. He loved the familiarity of knowing the distance of each step. Every time he added a mile it was like the world had revealed itself five thousand, two hundred and eighty feet at a time. She was approximately thirty yards in front of him and she was moving quickly. Her legs were as graceful as a gazelle but not as long. Her body were muscular but agile; her frame was compact and efficient. She wore a ponytail in her hair, the tip tossing back and forth with each length of her perfect stride. Everyday he saw her in the same spot. She became his motivation. Just the thought of seeing her pushed him past milestones that usually took weeks to accomplish.

Erving was on the top of the world. His whole life had changed since his brush with death. His body had transformed into a sleek and muscular frame. Erving’s life’s centered on his passion for running. He was able to transfer the tenacity he approached each mile with to every facet of his life but one - The woman who had unknowingly helped him to break through the plateau of eight miles in record time. Her route was slightly longer than his and he could tell that she was very much an advanced athlete. Erving didn’t care. A healthy heart and a long life was no longer the motivation for exercise, she was. She, a woman he knew nothing about brought him to that road every single day without fail. The very first time he reached the halfway point for his first ten-mile run, he noticed a small creek about a half a mile away. As he turned to head back he noticed her stretching.

She was only a half a mile away. Erving hesitated. His priority was to always finish the distance of the goal he set for himself. He realized that the only way he would be able to speak to his motivation was to increase his run, one more mile. He finished the ten mile run and planned to complete it at least two more times before setting a new goal and finally introducing himself to his running muse.

The runner’s high. Erving was feeling it. It was only the second time he completed the ten-mile course but the first time he had been so deeply intoxicated by the joy of running. He reached his turn around point and made a decision. It was time for him to tell her everything. He would tell her about the first time he saw her and how he would lace up his shoes with anticipation that he would see her again. He saw the creek and as he approached it he could feel the anticipation growing. With every step he knew that this would be the final chapter in what would prove to be the ultimate transformation. By tapping this woman on the shoulder and introducing himself, he would completely leave the overweight, self-conscious and depressed Erving in the past forever. He would see the culmination of his hard work and perseverance transform every facet of his life. There she was standing by the creek stretching, her body was as magnificent as the very first time he saw her. She was no more than twelve hundred yards away.

Erving could feel his body and mind become a ball of harmonious anxiety. Suddenly he noticed he was no longer sweating. His fingertips began to tingle; his left arm suddenly grew numb. His legs trembled and refused to obey his brain. He ignored his belligerent body and focused instead on her. Six hundred yards separated him from the woman who he had been secretly leaning on for almost a year. His vision was blurry, even though he had gotten lasix surgery after losing his first twenty pounds. Erving wasn’t sure if he was moving. He could no longer hear the rhythmic sound of his heart. Darkness began to engulf him; he was determined to see her face. Two hundred yards, one hundred yards, fifty yards, she turned towards him. For a moment, a moment that seemed to last the entire course of his life he saw her face.

Eyes as blue and deep as the ocean were the focal point of a face that flaunted its perfection. Her smile was full and luminescent, it was the first time he had ever seen her blonde hair resting gently on her muscular and elegant shoulders. As he collapsed and surrendered to a heart that would fail for the last time, Erving was able to speak the words that he had desperately wanted to say to her for miles… thank you.