The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner

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Surprised myself by not crying at the airport...came close though. Surprised at how fluidly I moved around in the terminal's confines too.

A little strange to blend in. Used to sticking out? Both relieving and unnerving at the same time. Simultaneously monogamous. Simul. Simul atque. The Latin comes and goes, usually in phrases and patterns.

Kept trying to sift out Icelanders…tall, blonde islands. One sized me up en route to her gate. On the lookout for lonely blonde travelers; other islands.

I keep oscillating between sturdy confidence and a feeling of obvious ineptitude. Like a smudge on a white shirt. Mixing patterns that have no business together. The bird from an Anthro 104 film that couldn’t manage to assemble mating dance moves in the right order. Signaling my shortcomings.

N chose a disconcerting piece of writing as a going away gift. I doubt he considered it a present of departure. More like a story to be sure I come back. Loneliness between covers. A way to be sure I don’t “bring back any Vikings”.

It was solid writing, but left me feeling hollow and alone. I had to stop before dinner. Too much even for single travelers trying to escape their solitude. That’s what newspapers are for. Looking busy and informed, but more importantly, for staving off the reality of loneliness.

Speaking of newspapers, I’ve been dying for the Times…too stubborn to buy it though.

Funny thing is, I don’t really feel lonely.

On My Mind: I’ve been waiting/I’ve been waiting for this moment, all my life

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