I run

I run while the sun is rising.

I run while other people powerwalk around the block.

I run while other people sleep, tormented by bad dreams of relationships gone sour.

I run while other people apply makeup, slip into matching silk lingerie and post photos to Instagram.

I run while other people swim laps in a pool overlooking the beach.

I run while other people drink coffee and tea and get their daily news from old-fashioned papers.

I run while other people shine their black patent leather shoes until they reflect like mirrors.

I run while other people surf in Hawai’i because it’s half-past-nine in the morning over there and they’re on holidays.

I run while other people browse the web, scanning the headlines and eating buttered toast.

I run while other people implore their hungry cats for just five minutes more.

I run while other people pour seed into a shallow dish on their balconies for the native birds.

I run while other people kiss their significant others goodbye as they go off to work.

I run while other people hang a load of washing on the line, making sure the pegs match.

I run while other people bustle for space in a small kitchen that’s not designed to fit five adults.

I run while other people make love.

I run while other people sip a fireside Scottish single malt whisky in their drawing room because it’s half-past-nine at night and wintertime in Oxford, England.

I run until it hurts, to numb a different type of hurt.