Sunday, May 12, 2013

Good Morning

I had a vision today of what my own personal hell would be.

I wake up and do yoga. I feel good about the physical exertion, and sticking to doing what I said I would. But from there it gets progressively worse. I check the bus times and see that I have to leave extremely soon. Fly through getting ready, I kiss Chris and the cat (Otto) before I rush out.

When I step outside there's a decent fog covering the other houses and apartments on my block. It's like being in a video game that renders out what you can see as you get closer: I can see about a block ahead of me, and more as I keep moving. And I do keep moving; I have no time to contemplate how I feel like I'm the only person in the world at 7.15 on a Sunday morning walking through the fog. And the bus will be at the stop 3 blocks and 2 major street crossings away in T-minus 5 minutes. So I start my slow desperate I'm-gonna-miss-the-bus "run" and the houses go by. The fog doesn't lift and I don't feel like I'm getting any closer. Eventually--my chest heavy because I'm the most out of shape slim person you've ever seen--the first major street comes up: 3 lanes, a median with a left turn lane, and another 3 lanes. The next cars are close enough to encourage me to J-run now, but not enough that my life is immediately threatened. Once across, I look at my phone for encouragement. I have a minute to go a short block, cross the street, and go another block. So much for my post-cross breath. I pick up the pace again and jog to the next light. No one's coming, and a woman twice my age jogs across safely against the light so I know I'm good. As I cross I see the bus headlights on the horizon. I still have to get to the actual stop. I make a run for it, looking over my shoulder, feeling its approach. I see it coming up and the bus driver isn't acknowledging me, or showing any sign of stopping for me. I look ahead and I'm suspended halfway up the block from the light and still halfway away from the bus stop. It's not getting any closer. My chest is hurting more than ever. Damn my perpetual laziness.

We go on like this forever: The bus speedily approaching, never slowing to offer reprieve and allow me on. The bus stop never getting any closer to offer me sense of arrival, or a seat to wait for the next bus. And me, running sloppily because I'm out of practice, out of shape, and wearing the worst, loosest fitting shoes I own. In pain and chastising myself for not getting ready earlier, for not sticking to any exercise regimen ever for more than a couple days, for not saving enough money for a car, for choosing to be an artist and therefore never having enough money to save up for a car, for still working a retail job that I have to rush to buses to get to, for having...