Post-chemo flesh and bones
s t r
e a k i n g
on a trampoline,
fueling every one of my steps.
photo by Jasper Garratt on, Unsplash
(these aren’t my feet or my mini-trampoline or my pretty anklet, but the photo shows one of the things I love most about running on a trampoline: I can run [and bounce!] barefoot without hurting my back or knees or feet)
an old friend (who recently had a heart attack and
is now trying to get his weight under control) sent me an email with the subject
line, “Let’s go streaking all over the city!” Don’t feel too terrible if his
word choices filled your skull with images of naked people running around New
York City dodging piles of snow, yellow taxis, and bewildered cops. It’s the
first thing I thought about, too. After further reading, I figured out that my
friend hadn’t turned into a nudist overnight; no, nothing that deliciously
scandalous, he just wanted to start running every day. My flesh and bones and I
haven’t run on pavement in ages (my back, hips, knees can no
longer take that kind of abuse). So, I declined the “streaking all over the
city” bit. But, since I can benefit from losing a pound (or 31), I said yes to a running streak on my trampoline.
- for Poets and Storytellers United (Writers’ Pantry #57: Infinite Variety).