Lone runner
Text/Winter Solstice Northeast
Some people say that running is lonely.
In fact, it is not the figure that is lonely, but the soul.
Net diagram
As I get older, I like the loneliness of running more and more.
It is not that there is nothing else to love, but in the simplest, most convenient and effective way, worthy of one's own temperament and body.
It is not that there is no companionship, after all, too many people are gradually defeated by themselves in the run, slowing down the pace of catching up, and finally losing the medal of persistence.
Once, young, but in a hurry. Countless times of envy, the figure running in the wind on the sidewalk. But I can only lean on the commuter car to take a nap, or hurry to pedal the bicycle in the wind and rain.
Therefore, I always ask myself: "When will you be able to run and live comfortably like them?" ”
Happiness has finally become the envy of others.
In the moonlight, a person, a road. The sound of running and panting in the darkness frightened the ants at their feet to quickly dodge, and the birds hiding in the bushes flew overhead to another tranquility. And the speeding lights illuminate the road when they come, but they don't know the end of the rush.
In the morning light, a person, a piece of sunshine. The morning glory flowers with dewdrops along the boulevard stretched out the climbing tentacles, so solid. Occasionally skimming over the light figure, it became the joy of speeding up the pace, gradually stirring the pace, beating the war drums that were galloping vertically and horizontally, and the wind was light.
Sweaty, permeable.
Scattered impetuous, relaxed spirit.
But when you really run, you know how strong you need to be every day without hindrance? It comes from the long journey, from the cruelty of physical exhaustion, from the loneliness of the depths of the soul, and sometimes more from this chaotic world.
In fact, all sentient beings, everyone is running alone like this, a beloved lover, a pleasing object, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, just for life and life.
The running of all sentient beings, only persistence. Happiness is often in the process of running, so weak that it is sometimes inaudible, invisible, and unspeakable. When hungry and cold, a full meal. When thirsty, a glass of water. When you are down, warm and pampered.
The running of all sentient beings does not allow them to give up. Give up, only to survive or die in a dark corner. Tired of the flesh, why not sell a pot of turbid wine, go through a carnival, sleep a dream to solve a thousand sorrows. Scorched soul, why not give time to recuperate, turn a thousand words into a realization, and interpret sorrow into a hero.
The real runners are all kings.
There is no smile of mutual encouragement, nor is it needed, just run alone like that.
There is no haunting of laughter, and there is no need to run alone like that.
Don't ask about the west and the east, don't fear the future.
