11/7/11
Skipping out at lunch, under-armor wicking away sweat with shorts flashing legs made white from a lack of sun. The road is there with its cold asphalt ready to shoulder the load being disbursed. A true magnitude brought from lungs heaving heavy gasps of air, billows that drive a train. A locomotive traveling down invisible tracks loosely guided by white lines painted on the road. Purposeless would be the farthest from the truth. So methodical is the approach that being privy to the knowledge driving the workout no doubt would be left on the question of why it was being done in the way it was being done. Culminating with a suppression of bowels and a sense of self-satisfaction swimming as a fish in the nausea gripping like the cold wet hands of a swimmer fresh from the ocean placed on skin while tanning in the summer’s sun.
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