a run in mercer county

notes on suffering

disclaimer: this piece includes sexual content, for the good of humanity.

post-run vibes - photo by matthew cooper

a run in mercer county, new jersey

since i saw you i've wanted to scream.

you caught me with almond eyes and thick smooth legs. you smiled as a student does at a professor they fancy.

i didn’t choose to see you by the water. i didn’t consent for the curve of your backside to spin in my mind the past two days. but here we are. i want you and don't have you. 

when i run, i savor the time for pain to rise and fall. today i give myself that unrushed space. i set out on foot. no map, but i know roughly where the lake is. i start by walking. i speak to the trees and touch her bark. 

then i run. 

this is the time of anger. i spend so much of life in the mind and now i’m in the body. the body where the pain is. i try to escape back into thinking but it fails. the body is everywhere: the ground’s resistance, the tackiness on my arms and pressure in my chest. in humid breaths i can feel the nape of your neck. 

when the pressure peaks i shout as i exhale. the release is good, the rural road silent. 

i scream louder. 

yesterday, i lay naked and imagined i was in your body - taut and flawless. i felt your wild gasp as fingers slid inside. it was charged and shameful. is it wrong to be someone worthy of pleasure? 

i scream. 

“i enjoy being with you”. that's what i’ll say if i can lure you into friendship. it is true, i want to be close and hear your secrets. but i’m weeping for the wanting of you. i’m wondering if we get the love we think we deserve. 

i scream. 

thank you maker! thank you to the one who planted these maples. thank you for deep red against may’s verdance. 

i scream again. 

my legs bleed from the brambles, and the path dead ends at a pond. the lake is on the far side. i whisper to a fat turtle as it darts into the sludge. this is as far as i can go.  

it's been maybe forty minutes. physical pain is rising and i like it. this is the suffering i choose. i like to feel the thigh’s labor. i like the sound of my feet. my path. my time and place. 

i am lead to a rock grotto. mary waits there in blue and white, draped in faded rosaries. i know her as amma. i kneel and place hands on the earth with the words she gave me in a time of need: “never be ashamed to worship me”. the blood mixes with dirt.

another vast field and horizon blue with midday. high clouds. i breath in the power of a big sky. twenty years ago i ran through farms west of here. shawn was the only one i brought to that sacred place. a thousand geese rose from the earth as we chased them squawking and flailing our limbs.

i am struggling and far from where i started. in a clearing i do two slow loops. i raise my arms and hear people cheering. they are amazed at my boldness. “up against the clock, and yet he takes two loops for show!”, “what a smile he has on his face!”.  

my attention narrows. leg burn. hard breath. how long have we been going? is the highway atop that hill, or the next one?

there is still sadness and arousal when i think of you, but it is soft. i’m in the midst of a glorious finish. look how many came to cheer.

there are waves of heat and dizziness. i try a mantra to lift my spirit.

it's perfect.
it’s perfect.
it’s perfect.

in a mind that sees pain as a mistake, i find power in witnesses who say “his pace is perfect”, “his race is flawless”. 

my friend tells me “choose your suffering, or your suffering will choose you”. 

it is hard to keep my body moving. but it is easy to find esteem in choosing what is hard.

i did not choose you, nor the fantasies that came before. but i choose to sprint faster. the bridge over route 1 is the finish line and the others are far behind. when i reach top i fall forward and grip the fence in a gasp. it is good. 

i walk slowly, head eased back and hands on hips. this is what’s best in life. i am happily spent. the scream that drove me out has eased into sweetness. i hear quiet voices say, someone like you is on their way.

—
may 2024

notes:

• editing by matthew holmes & karen cooper

• new jerseyites are obsessed with route 1 geography. so here is a link to the run finish line location for you all.