Thoughts of a loon

My forefoot strikes the pavement in an efficient movement.
I breathe steadily.
My hair swooshes through the air, streaming behind me. I love the silky sound it makes as I run. I am loathe to put it in a ponytail, though I'm not sure why.
Birds are singing.
I exhale.
Again, I propel forward a few feet, but I feel as if I'm going nowhere. The end of this trek is so far away,
and I feel I am going too slowly, though my stopwatch tells me otherwise.
I refocus my mind so I won't dwell on the repetition of my movement. I think about breathing.
Breathing is repetitive. Thinking about it is doing me no good.
I look up. The sky is oh-so-blue. How I love that color. If only I could have a bit of spring sky to perk up dreary days. This kind of blue makes you feel happy just to look at it. The clouds stand out perfectly, too. Today is a work of art. God is good.
Someone is doing laundry; the air smells of dryer sheets. Ahh, clean clothes. I'd like some clean clothes about now. A shower would be lovely, too.
I have no music playing, because I'm training myself to be ready for the half-marathon. Music isn't allowed at such events. It would be a perfect distraction right now. I could get caught up in the rhythm of the song and not have to work so much to entertain my brain.
A song pops into my mind, but I resist the urge to sing it aloud. I just analyze the lyrics, the beats, the instruments used.
Oh who cares? I sing a few lines.
Well, if I can sing, it means I'm not going fast enough. Pick up the pace!
I continue to absorb my surroundings. After you've run a route so many times, it's hard to distract yourself with unfamiliar things.
Ouch, my feet hurt. You'd think they'd be used to this by now...
Push. Through. The. Pain.
There we go, it just took some long strides to stretch my feet.
Someone is cutting grass, and I do my best to avoid the inevitable cloud of pollen and grass cuttings. Silly allergies.
I swig some water.
I'll think about...math. Math is good, and basic. I count my strides, I practice my times tables, count by primes, anything to get my mind off of running.

I'm on the home stretch.
One.
More.
Mile.
I sprint, thinking of some sort of reward if I can just get home.
An orange. A juicy orange would be fantastic.

HOME!
...6 miles? No biggie.

That's pretty much what it's like to be me running. I'm rather insane, as you can tell...