the run

We are rowdy at our round oak table- feuding about biomechanics like politcal commentators. Anatomy and medical science tests are next week- the countdown has started and this means mega study sessions. We watch seven generations of coffee consumers come and go. The owner of the coffee shop stops by our table to tell us she has been watching us. She believes Annette is a visual learner. "Everytime I look over at you your arm is up in the air, twisting and turning and bending and extending."

I arrived at the shop in the morning just after a jog around the lake with Lisa. Seven hours later it is completely dark outside and my body is ready to run again. We decide we need a stretch and some fresh air. We leave the mess of Sieg and Smith books at our table. If anyone wants to steal these graphs of passive muscle tension it's okay by us. The sidewalk is too narrow for five partially brain dead girls. We take our stretch to the streets. The formation is a fancy one: walking in a line down the middle. Our tough looking shadows inspire us. I think we look like a scene from the "Thriller" rock video. "I just need to run," Valerie says. We all agree and gaze longingly at the free space before us: a completely empty street stretching for yards and yards. So despite if we are wearing jeans or running pants, we all begin to run: sloppily and desperately. Once we are back to the shop we think that maybe we can go for one more hour. Let's start with the median nerve. . .