The Man Runs

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The man walked. He walked and while he was walking the demons were following him. They latched onto both of his shoulders, one wrapped around his waist, and another clasped to both of his ankles. He wanted to run, but he couldn’t.

No.

He had been here before. This wasn’t the first time he felt this sluggish. This was not the first he had been tied down by the worst of thoughts – How awful he was, how terrible those around him were, and how unchanging the problems always were.

They seemed.

He didn’t no why, but he knew this was the truth. He knew it was the truth because he had been here before. He had heard what he could not do. He had been told many times before that he was weak, doomed to fail, and not cut out for anything good.

The man walked faster.

Why? What was it that he had seen before that he could not see currently? Was it his lack of a sports drink? Was it his ambivalence towards healthy eating habits? Was he simply not cut out for a run?

No. He could run. He could move his legs faster and then find out how far they carried him. He decided not to give up before he even started.

The man jogged.

At first his breath felt heavy. His weight felt heavy. One of the demons from his shoulders fell off. Then another one, from his waist.

Wait. He was not a loser. He was not as bad as they said. He was currently down, but he had been down before, and he had also been up in the time in between. And the people around him – why were they so bad? For petty faults? Everybody had petty faults. He had petty faults.

The man ran.

The demon from his ankles fell off. He was not bound to sports drinks. He was not defeated by physical things. He owned physical things. He owned physical things because his power did not come from physical things, it came from somewhere else, somewhere from above, and the power worked through his heart.

The final demon fell off. Yes. That was how it went. He could run. He could run and beat many people at running. He was not getting tired, no. The less he worried about how tired he would get, the less tired he got. In fact, he got more energy. He pumped his legs faster, and it felt good.

The man sprinted.

He smiled. The wind swept through his hair and he felt light. Like it was no longer himself who had to carry him. Like his body was moving by way of another source. And the source was not from anything he had eaten, or anything he had done to manufacture. The power came from above. And if the power came from above, to help him, then what could possibly stop him? If he was not bound to whether or not he consumed a sports drink, then what was he bound too? If his power came from a source greater than the confines of the world, than what left was there which could confine him?

The man bolted. He charged, jumped, smiled and laughed. The man was not a loser. The man was invincible, because the source springing up in him was invincible.

The man kept running.

– Thomas M. Watt

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