running to stand still

I like the ache after a jog. There's something pleasant about the pain.
But I do not like the ache in my knees. It simply makes me feel old.

I like to run in the mornings, before the sun bears down its intense heat.
I cannot do that anymore, as the earliest I'm willing to wake up is 930.

Instead I jog, when it's hot.
Too hot.

It makes the route seem a little too long and makes me feel tired and hotheaded.

I pick up the pace to reach the scattered spots of shade and slow down there to drink in the cooler air. But all too soon it's time to move on again.

I could easily go to the office gym to do my exercise, but running on a treadmill in an airconditioned room is always less fun.

There's something about being outdoors, outside, breathing in the fumes from the cars and motorcycles, weaving through the human traffic, running up and down from the pavements, running up and then down the slope on sixth avenue, ducking into side lanes, looking back to make sure no cars are turning into the lane, checking the traffic before crossing roads, sneaking peeks into the houses as I jog past them, picking up speed on a good song, slowing down when it just gets too much, breathing hard, breathing fast, the heat of the sun on my arms and legs, my ipod in my left hand, keys in my right.

I don't run far, I don't run fast.