Bust.

“No matter who or what is eating ya, you show it and you’re dead.  You are cutting a hole in yourselves for them to stick in a red hot umbrella and open it wide.  Man you wanna get past the cops when they start asking about tonight? You play it cool. You wanna live in this lousy world? Play it cool. I wanna get even! Get cool. I wanna bust! Bust cool. I wanna go! Go cool.” - West Side Story

Sometimes running has this effect on me.

When I was little I used to get so angry. I wanted to hit, to flail, to rage.  I wanted to act out and well often I did. Because of this I wasn’t allowed to have things. My bike would be off limits at times because I would take it out on my things. So then I knew I could use my feet. I could run down my street as fast as I could and my tears would stream out and away from my face and I could feel that rush of pain in my lungs, in my heart, in my feet.  I got it out of my system.

I still use running like this. Sometimes there is pain that you just don’t want to burden people with. When it’s the same cycle of rinse & repeat.  I get that feeling and well I also get the urge to run; to run as fast and hard as I can. While I won’t run as fast & as hard as I can, I will still run.

I think about haters. I think about semantics. I think about 45 minutes of freedom.

So – I’m about to bust cool.