Stream -- Running.

Note: This is a stream of consciousness piece written in one session and printed with minimal revisions.

Running. It is something some fear. It can be something some hate even if they are good at it. Some people run away and yet toward something. For others, running is a dream. It can appear as an elusive oasis to a person sucked in to a day-to-day grind.

The days begin to pile up. There are stresses built upon tensions with foundations in problems that people could barely know. Others can be so aware of their particular problem that they grow accustomed to it. They stop recognizing it as a work in progress. They don't see it affecting their lives actively. Often, they are wrong. Often, they fail to let go of the issues surrounding it. They fail to first confront the issues.

Sublimation is an honorable idea. But if it is done improperly, it can elude us. That's not so bad, however. What's worse is a sublimation that is an illusion to us. In this case, we think we have found our solution so we ignore residual warning signs. We repress, repress and the problem festers. Soon, we'll have full-blown stress of a more disturbing kind. We must confront before we cope.

My name is Peter F. Stevens and this is what I have learned from 78 years of life. All I have to look at here, in this... home... is this view of the sea. On most days when I look out this window at about this tide, the sea is about as active as I am. It's as if whatever muscles the sea uses to make its waves are just tired out. Seems like the moon itself simply needs a rest. The water is even gray and placid, just waiting to evaporate into sunlight. I, myself, begin to ache in the anticipation, but not in the way I remember from my youth. I hurt waiting for something, anything, to happen.

My joints get sore. Each one begs for a real, big stretch. My muscles squeeze against no force in particular. They just want their still powerful spirit expressed. The very points of my bones press and pull even tighter my old, stretched out skin. Even my nails try to push through their nail beds. Every itch itches and every inch of me squirms under an intense, formerly known desire. And yet I am tired.

As the hours pass, however, the changing tides give life to the sea. A bluish vitality creeps into the water and sea foam sprays across the shore. Out beyond the break, the sea's whitecaps give me something to watch. And even though I'm set back, to a place they call a safe distance away, the waves still crash hard and loud enough for me to know they're working.

That's when I think about running. Running is different for many people. For me, it's freedom. I will the entire thing. I choose my direction. I choose my speed. All my parts are moving, unimpeded. My muscles have a cause and, with running, they are in a position to work off my stresses. I feel the wind in my face and the exhilaration in my body. Smiling comes to me as naturally as ever. And in this place, I still smile. I have my sea to look at, my life lessons to recall, and my memories to feel.