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This Way Up

 “Coming through! Coming through!”

I look back. “Sorry.” Run. Run.

Okay, okay, I need to move to the side. No, no, wrong side. I pass by. He’s breathing harder than me!

Stairs. I hate stairs. Do I? No, not really. I feel good after I accomplish something, conquer a task, put my mind to it. After a short time I look down.

How can they be coming up behind me so fast? What are they carrying anyway? They’re catching up!

Faster. Faster.

Or…possibly best to get off this beaten path and make my own. I visualize throwing stones and boulders to the side like sand in the wind. Others applaud and praise and follow me! Okay, reality. Can’t find something less congested until I reach the top. This is a workout! I think back. How long ago? Simple communication. Fairly direct directive. Get going! Do it now! Think how others will look up to you, the strong and determined one. Yeah, right. They’re looking up at me, and they are catching me! The so-called leader of Work it, Baby! My title. My motivation. And they’re moving what I perceive is like an 800 pound gorilla! Okay, I have no idea. I don’t care. It just pisses me off. Maybe I’m misdirecting my energy. Okay, good thinking. That’s it. Losing strength just because I feel I’m being pushed by inferior…oh, hell, name calling won’t solve anything. Focus. Move. Kick sand in their faces, dirt, dust, whatever. Reach the top and reclaim my top-of-the-world position. At least in my mind.

This is getting embarrassing. There are stares. Am I seeing a look of disgust?

Focus.

Bright light. Is that the top?

I shouldn’t have slowed to look!

I hear, “Hey, get it moving!”

“Okay! Okay! I’m going.” No rest for the weary. Not weary! Focus! Damn myself. I should have turned around and…Ah, forget it. Sometimes I feel like I have no backbone. Never been a brawler.

Focus! I take a leap to the light above. Actually, it’s hard to leap when you’re climbing anyway, but I’m here!

“Go past,” I direct my followers.

Ah ha! Bubba and Brutus—the showoffs who got close enough to sniff my hairy butt—are just lightweights taking up food for somebody! Smelled Italian. The weakest among us could have done this! These lazy guys were grunting to make me look bad and make others think better of them, which they don’t deserve. They smile as they pass. They know what they’re doing. This is how they get their kicks!

Okay. Now down. Down is easy. I move along the peak, visualizing that I’m on a mountaintop instead of where I am. I try to find a place to descend. This was supposed to be MY day of getting it done, going the extra mile, straining but not showing it as I ascended my stairway to buff greatness! I can just hear the question, “How’s that goin’ for ya?”

Dark…a passageway?…where does it go? I feel around, sensing something ominous. One step, two, three, four, five, whoops! The sixth is a step down. One step, two steps, then another, one more, easy does it, then…damn! Okay, a hole of some kind. Step around. Yep. Okay. Keep going.

I don’t hoof it. I don’t dog it. I don’t strut, saunter or sally forth. I simply focus on balance and letting the burning subside in my spindly legs. Yeah, never a big selling point with the ladies.

“Ladies!” Or should I say lady.” Geez, talk about having an unfocused morning. This was all about her from the start. Wrongly I had encouraged myself to focus on me and not let my emotions take over, aggravated by the guys behind me. If I had just thought about her, glorious her, my devotion, my…do anything for her commitment, I’d have run laps around everybody! Got it. Calm, collected, forward.

I proceed gallantly. Back straight, legs in cadence to a tune, a vibration coming from some place. Confident again. Alone with my thoughts, focused where my focus should be.

Ahhhhh! I stumble. I tumble. I even roll. Can’t get my legs under me. They’re staring again! I hear laughing!


“Mommy, can I ask Santa for an ant farm?”

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