There I was

another day

spent counting miles

subtracting calories

calculating deficits.

Run, run to look good, run to look pretty, run so boys will like you.

Bracing the cold

one morning in February.

Opaque.

Alone on the trail.

Feeling the wind

and the snow

pierce my skin

feeling transparent.

as if the winds were going to claim me as their own. 

I would tell people

that it's normal

that I'm an avid runner

my bmi? 

Low, you say?

No.

More like, normal

for a runner as good as me.

There I was

one sunny morning in the month of May

crouched on the kitchen floor

gripping the edge of the counter

slamming cabinets 

refusing to get up.

Denying that I need help.

My body? It's fine. 

Or so the voices said.

Now the voices are getting quiter. 

Instead of you don't need that

I hear 

add some more of that 

and

another scoop of this.

Now when I run

it's not to reach a certain number

not to look good in jeans.

I'm running from my demons.

I'm running for myself.

I'm running for my life.