At Mile Five

manrunning_gq_22sept11_ist_b

At mile five, the endorphins kick in

Like some kind of home-made heroin.

I don’t want to stop. Ever.

A parasol of soft, warm light

Spreads before me.

I lift off, and am raised above the world;

I can see the man running, running…

His troubles are so tiny

At mile five.

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