"Why" an Essay

Why

A guitar strums its way into my hazy dream. Bass pulses away the last vestiges of sleep. "Someday, we gonna rise up on that wind..." The words force me to realize that I am awake. My eyelids struggle open. The pre-dawn light from the window bullies my eyes into focus. 7:00 glows orange from the face of my alarm clock. I lug my right arm out from under my comforter and fumble for the volume knob on the alarm. The music recedes a little, allowing my thoughts room to materialize. First to cross my mind: go back to sleep.

Lying back down, I curl into the down of my pillow, my mattress, my blanket. My legs scrunch up against themselves, resisting the cold now stealing in from the opening made by my arm. Tendrils of sleep billow at the back of my mind and with every passing second they swirl closer to the front. I should get up.

I realize I've fallen back asleep when the song changes and a quick drumbeat revives my brain. My eyes spring open and I sit up, the covers falling away. A wave of cold crashes against my back, splashing my bare arms and shoulders with goose bumps. I slide my legs over the edge of the bed. My knees throb as the cold penetrates my aching joints. Out of habit, my feet search for the slippers waiting next to the bed. Toes meet wool and I savor the hint of warmth. Rubbing my eyes, I reach for the glasses on my bedside table and slide them on. My blue fleece and other exercise clothes jump into focus from the floor. I scurry over and grab my running pants, tiptoeing into them with a shiver as fabric meets skin. The darkness of a winter morning commands me to flick on the overhead light. My hair slumps out of its ponytail so I take out the elastic and make a haphazard bun instead. The air tickles the small of my back with cold. I grab my fleece and put it on, then hurry to the bathroom.

Acrid sleep still coats the inside of my mouth and I grab the toothpaste. As I brush my teeth, my hip leans into the sink for support and my eyes slip closed, but only for a moment. I finish, and trade my glasses for contacts. The taste of spearmint now frosts my mouth, the only chill I want to feel this morning.

My morning routine finished, I creak downstairs, the old architecture of the house imitating the noise in my protesting joints. Fixating on the hope that someone has gotten up and come down to make a fire, I walk into the kitchen. The chill that greets me eliminates any such hope. My sneakers crouch next to the kitchen sofa, and I look down at the slippers still caressing my feet. The thought of switching from wool, comfort and warmth to rubber, difficulty and rawness pricks me with dread. I shake my head and grab the sneakers. As I put them on, I picture myself running down the back roads of Pownal, dirt packed with ice crunching beneath my feet, the wind chewing at my nose. I shiver.

My mind lumbers upstairs and crawls back into bed. So why is my body still down here? Why is it doing this? The glacier of trepidation floating at the bottom of my empty stomach gives no answer.

Five minutes later, I open the kitchen door and rush outside, knowing that if I take too much time, the courage to go will disintegrate.

Mist rises off the snow as the sun lumbers over the horizon, overheating the blanketed ground. I take a deep breath and start off down my driveway.

A mile into my run and the warmth of movement has already permeated my body. My fleece wraps its arms around my hips leaving only a spandex shirt to protect my torso from the cold. I run through clouds of my own breath, but adrenaline overpowers the chill.

In twenty more minutes my thoughts have led me into North Yarmouth. Anything physical has faded into subconscious repetition. The motion of running, the increasing light, the cold, it has all been replaced by to-do lists, hypothetical situations and song lyrics. I flow down the road.

The last half mile slips beneath my feet, disappearing behind me with every step, and in only a few minutes I crash up my driveway in a sprint. Gasps of air filter into my lungs through a searing throat. After the pace of my run, my feet glide over the floorboards as I walk inside.

Five minutes later the showerhead sputters to life. I step under the deluge, letting the pellets of warmth pound my shoulders and back. My muscles begin to unknot. Air presses in from all sides, enveloping me in the dense, almost tangible heat. I lean against the shower wall, closing my eyes for a moment. My plans for the day rehearse behind my closed eyes. I realize that I can relax for the next twenty-four hours. I open my eyes and twist out the kinks in my neck. Steam pours into my nose and mouth, soothing my throat. I sigh. The adrenaline from running trickles out of my body, leaving me with a feeling of buoyancy and purity and residual strength. A grin steals across my lips and I reach for the shampoo, the “why” from before my run finally answered.