you in the office, baby

"you in the office, baby!"

*TRAINING DAY, Detective Alonzo Harris played by Denzel Washington

as most of you know, i run. i like to run, it´s super cheap, it give the notion of progress,
i have slick New Balance 769 lightweight running shoes, and i have thoughts upon thoughts to keep my mind nourished as i put on foot in front of the other...for hours.

if an astronomically, critically, crippling event occurs in my life, that will be the day i commit to a marathon...and i could pull it off sans warm-up stretch, sans bagel breakfast, in my grandpa´s stout Johnny Cash jeans. it´s easy...my thoughts are fuel. i am jet pack. i am steam.

so, during my 2 hour run today, pink Sierra Nevada mountains yawning to meet me at every hilltop, i remembered this:

"Damn, Gina...you don´t have a job."

not the most optimistic or majestic thought to accompany the van gogh backdrop, but sh*t,
i was right.
i was right...right-left-right-left-right-
sh*t.
the Andalusian sunshine and woodsmoke from cold chimneys
make my stride widen, my teeth grit,
so, as i progress up left-right-left i realize right-
and remember this:

"You in the office, baby!"

sh*t, i forgot!
THIS, this, this, here, is my office, i´ve been clocked in since december 28, 2009, baby!
i have planning in far off planners, and cold calling, and researching maps, i lace up my shoes with a double knot, i carry my passport, i order my cafe con churros, i trek around town, i read the plaques that say the names that list the birth, the death, i revel, i reel, i dream, i question, i question my curiosity, i read, i question what i am doing in this position, i accept myself daily, and i reject myself daily, i breathe into the future restless and lost, i surprise myself by who i can be, who i could be, not just here, but there, for my friends my family myself, i e-mail, i facebook-it, i take the trash out, i feed the little one, i shower, i get out of bed and some days that´s the most courageous thing you can do, and i do it.
i am clocked in, m*tha f*ckas.

and the future will take care all its own.
with me without me, it´ll widen the stride to swallow me in it´s yawn.
and, that´s fine with me...it´s gotta be fine with me.

so, i begin as Detective Alonzo Harris.
f*ckin pumped, cock of the walk, the here and now, baby!

and, at my end, i am Forrest Gump.
at the end of his running days, he simply turns around to go home.
jet pack at a low hum, and out of fuel. a complicated satisfied.

but, until then...i´m on the clock, baby.

namaste.