I Chase the Light - by Peter Licari
Delirium and Runner’s High
I don’t remember much from the last few hours. All I know is that it’s been about a day since I’ve slept and that I breezed through Stephen King’s 850 page behemoth 11/22/63. I don’t have time to remember anything else now. I just have to go out and run. There’s no other time in my day to fit it in. I have a golf game at 8:00 and a date with my girlfriend at 5:00. The clock pounds 5:20 into my eyes with bright orange text. I need to get my shoes on and just go out the door. That’s it. No other thoughts.
****
I just remembered that I’m afraid of the dark.
****
I plug in my earphones and flick on my flashlight. A Day to Remember’s “The House that Doubt Built” starts to blare.
Don’t get me started on why I need to feel all right.
I was nervous, true! Very, very dreadfully nervous.
“But why would you say that I am mad?” I ask myself in the cold night.
I’m relieved that I don’t hear an answer.
****
Doubt. I doubt a lot of things right now. Are those glimmers at the edges of my vision monsters or imagination? I doubt a lot of things right now. Reality being one of the biggies.
I think it’s funny that I doubt the shadows. The novel I’m writing, The Othersiders, is about the terrifying reality that could ensue if shadows gained malignant consciousness. Novel. The novel I’ve already written and gotten published is another cause of doubt. The Dimensional Constant is my baby. The language is elevated beyond laymen comprehension. It’s tough to chew. Will it be like me when I was young? Get picked on and bullied for being smarter than the others?
Doubt. I’m full of a lot of it.
****
I push out of the neighborhood and I’ve entered darkness. The kind of darkness your flashlight can’t eliminate on its own. The kind that breeds monsters.
I can’t help but feel that my footfalls have gotten faster. My arms follow in kind. It’s like with every jagged, rapid arc my hand is reaching for the limited light itself. I realize it’s foolish to try and touch light just to feel safe.
I try to touch it anyways.
****
I’m out onto 419 and the darkness is mysterious. It’s fluid. It’s like I’m slipping though another world. My light is the aerodynamic tip that lets the shadows flood around me. It’s a slipstream through reality, I’ve decided. As I go through the front the back closes on me forever. I keep running.
****
I Chase the Light - by Peter Licari
I’ve passed Lawton Chiles Middle School. I am now 2.75 miles away from my house and roughly 5.5 years away from when I last walked its halls as a student. To my left is a small marketplace with an ice cream shop. I took my first girlfriend to that shop on 90% of our dates. That relationship lasted from 8th to 9th grade. Like the Oreo ice-cream we would share, it was sweet while it lasted.
I told my 9th grade English teacher in a project that I would never forget what her smile looked like on those summer days we shared. I was called a romantic. I guess I still am-- I still remember her smile. It’s not as clear as it once was but it’s still there. Sweet as ice-cream.
****
I’m running through a section of trees and branches jetting out into the darkness. They threaten to smack some sense into me. Too bad I’m just awake enough to duck but too tired to let them.
****
Another song pops up on the iPod. “The Promise” by In This Moment. It has the lead singer from Otherwise guest starring. It’s a heartbreaking metal ballad.
It’s funny. I promised myself when I was younger I would do this route. My morning (night) called for a long run. I was going 7 miles to my high school. Round trip of 14. I always promised I would do this route when I was actually in school.
The only promise I can make you- IS THAT MY PROMISES ARE LIES!
At the least, they’re anachronistic.
****
I pass over a bridge and a jetting piece of machinery masquerades as a giant parrot. The shadows are an amazing costume.
Parrot. I went to a Hookah bar with my girlfriend the other day. A gay man sat down and put his arm over my shoulder. He leaned in with a breath heavy with smoke and liquor.
“That’s a might fine parrot you got ‘ere on yer shoulder.”
I looked to my girlfriend with obvious confusion. She didn’t know what to do. Neither did I. We laughed. The man realized his mistake and slunk away to another seat. We laughed some more. We laughed for the memory that we were making, from the memories we’ve shared over the last year and a half, and because it’s the only thing we can think of to do.
Ah yes, the Hookah bar. An asthmatic runner who needs every milliliter of oxygen he could muster sitting with a pipe of flavored tobacco in his mouth. Arm around his girl, enjoying the sights and sounds. It’s the most paradoxical thing anyone could think of.
What can I say? I’m a stupid teenager. I know the risks. I ignore the risks. It was my first time doing anything like that. I’m intelligent enough to decide that the next time I go, I’ll only go for the company of my girl and the sounds of the band. No smoke for me, thanks.
But I’m stupid enough to go again. I’m a teenager through‘n through.
****
I see a gas station up ahead. The 4-mile mark. Give or take, I dunno. All I know is that it’s lit. The darkness is still behind me. It’s liberating. A car comes out and its headlights flicker out towards me. All there is around me is a tunnel of darkness funneling into its light. I can’t help but think “is this my salvation?”
“Closing Time” by Semisonic. You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.
I guess that decides it. I turn left.
****
The city of Oviedo proudly presents: regular lampposts. It’s a welcomed sight. Instrumental music by Two Steps from Hell play. I wonder if it could get any more ominous.
****
I’m passing the golf course to the left. Twin Rivers. Nice place if you don’t mind sand traps that pass as concrete and greens that are truly browns. I’m passing a lake to my left that is greedy for my little white golf-balls. It always eats them up.
I give it a joyous “F--- you” and keep going.
I notice a light on the rough around the green. Maintenance workers. Tonight we share the darkness as flimsy lights try to keep us alive in the slipstream. Tonight we are brothers. I give him a solemn promise of fraternal love and keep going.
****
There’s the rec center. It’s 1.75 miles from the school. By arithmetic elimination, that means I’ve run 5.25 miles. I feel surprisingly good for a guy without sleep. My pace is a steady 7:10 per mile. My heart is only beating like a drum because of the shadows-- otherwise it’s great. Promise.
The rec center. God that brings me back. How many times had me and my teammates run passed this point? How many times over the four years I ran as an athlete of Paul J. Hagerty High? Four years. God we’ve grown.
One of my training partners used to use it as a meticulous check-in point. We’ve grown up. Now he and his girlfriend use it when they’re looking for the cover of night. Until it’s shattered by police sirens and flashing lights. Then frantically look for discarded cloth to cover up their uncompromising position as the officers tap on the window.
I smile. At least when me and my girlfriend get pulled over it isn’t because of an uncompromised position. A broken taillight on our first date (the “excitement” is what guaranteed a second), a cop investigating us parked by my house (displaying how nerdy we truly are with a mobile game of scrabble in hand), and a 5-mile per hour fender bender (it was moving slower than I am now; how much damage could there be?).
I laugh at this. I think I’ll tell him that joke next time we run together.
****
I get to the halfway point. It’s the back lot of the school where my mom would drop me off as my coach would step out of his truck. Except Fridays. He was at the Town House on Fridays.
I think about the Town House and the Mega-Baptist Church that’s set to demolish it for more parking spaces. I think about the dying mall and the thriving new diner by the driving range. I realize with some quick math that if I finished this run, I could reach potentially anywhere in the city of Oviedo.
“I am God,” I say to myself, cryptically. I don’t even know what it means, but it sounds poignant. Maybe I’ll write a poem about that when I get home. All I know now is that I am He and he is Me. I am the God of this little kingdom currently engulfed in darkness and shadow. I don’t know what that said, but it said something profound. But I realize that even when the light comes and liberates us from the night, I’ll still be God. I’ll still be able to run to any point of my domain I please in a matter of two hours or less. But it’s that size, I realize, it’s that size that disconcerts me. Because I’m not the only God. There’s more than just me. This town is tiny. I am God but I am just a small fish in a sea of different domains.
I think it’s about time I turn back home.
****
I’ve decided that this darkness has inspired me to write. I want to write. But I think I’ll go away from the norm. I’ll write the truth.
Politicians tell lies to hide the truth. Artists tell lies to reveal it. - V for Vendetta. It’s one of my favorite movies.
I lie when I write. There’s no way around it. My book, The Dimensional Constant? Pure fiction. All lies. I think back on a spoken word piece I gave at the University of Tampa’s Open Mike Night:
Literally I just committed a literal felony- I lied! Take me away in handcuffs please! But please, if you’re going to use handcuffs use the pink and fluffy ones because, after all, if you’re going to screw me then I at least deserve some reciprocation.
Marcus Caustings doesn’t exist. Neither does Natalie Whitman. They’re figments of my imagination. But they tell you a truth that you wouldn’t know otherwise.
But what is truth? My friend asked me this over a text message the other day. We engage in some heavy philosophical stuff. I gave him an answer and this is what he responded with:
So the idea of correct is in question? (simplified I know)
So is reality right now, my friend. Right now, everything’s in question.
****
Rabbit run is playing by Eminem.
Some days I just wanna up and call it quits (yep. Sounds right). I feel like I’m surrounded by a wall of bricks (made entirely of darkness with cement made of light, you are correct, sir). Every time I go to get up I just fall in pits (right now, I can hardly run without burping a weird toxic blegh). My life’s like one great ball of s---.
Well that I disagree with. Life tastes too sweet on my tongue. Even if I seem to be belching acid right about now.
****
The song has changed to Taylor Swift. It makes me think of my girlfriend. The ones with happy endings, anyways. I guess I’m still a romantic.
I realize that I haven’t waved to anyone lately. I waved at everyone I passed earlier because there was so few of us. I decide f--- it. I don’t want to wave.
Why you gotta’ be so mean?
I sigh. I decide I’ll try waving more often after all.
****
You got it all down, got it all down, down to a science; breaking hearts, is what you do for fun little one.
I don’t think of me in this song. I think back to my friend from before. The one who asked about truth.
But see I wrote it all down, wrote it all down, into a song-- I’ll break your heart in just three minutes now. Look who won.
He didn’t. His girlfriend shattered his heart in less than fifteen seconds. Fifteen seconds. It probably took her that long to send him the Facebook message that ended their relationship of 2 years.
Talk about cruelty down to a science: 15 seconds to end 2 years is brutally efficient. If I could get my Oxygen intake to be that efficient, I could break 3:00 let alone 4:00. That’s way too impersonal. Stupid technological age.
All I need is an apology. But damn, that’s too much!
****
I look over my shoulder. The sun is rising. I’m running into the darkness. I smirk. That’s just too perfect. I’ve been running in the darkness for too dang long. Now I just want to chase the light again.
****
I think I know this taste in my throat. It almost tastes like mouthwash. I swallowed some the night before on accident. Maybe it’s haunting me. I don’t know. Everything’s uncertain.
****
My heart’s a stereo. It beats for you so listen close.
I smile. I wrote a ballad to my girlfriend once with this song as the overlay. It was fairly successful I dare say so myself. It made her smile. I get to see her later today. It brightens my day a bit. Well that and the sunrise. I can’t decide which does more.
****
I’m back at the middle school. I realize what I’ve belching. I haven’t eaten since Sea World last night. 13 hours ago. I’m running on empty. Scratch that: I’ve been running on empty since mile 7. I’ve been burping stomach acid.
Yet I crave pancakes.
****
Do you have the time, to listen to me whine about nothing and everything- all at once? I am one of those melodramatic fools. Neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it.
Sometimes I give myself the creeps. Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me. It all keeps adding up. I think I’m cracking up.
Well said, Green Day. Well Said.
****
So many questions. Is this real? Have I been dreaming? Why do my legs hurt? Oh. I’m running. Why have I been hitting sub 7:00 pace? Why? Why?
I’ve got these questions always running through my head. So many things I would like to understand. If we are born to die an’ we all die to live- then what’s the point of living life if it just contradicts?
Your Honor, I think Falling in Reverse raises a valid question. But I can’t, in all intellectual honesty, answer it for myself.
****
Another song from Two Steps from Hell. But the light is starting to peek out. It isn’t ominous anymore. Wait…
Wait…
I just realized something.
We’re all Two Steps from Hell. Literally. If you’ve ever heard of Zoroastrianism, we are all walking an existential tight rope that stretches infinitely towards heaven. Lord knows how many steps we have to take (hah! Literally) to get there. But I can tell you exactly how many steps it takes to fall into Hell.
Two. One for your left foot. One for your right.
I’m walking a tightrope. I’ve been walking it for 18 years. Salvation still hasn’t gotten any closer. But you know what? I’m fine with that. I will keep walking on this line and I will never let myself fall. I will be the best at what I do. I will never stop until I’m the best runner, the best writer, the best boyfriend, the best brother, the best son, the best student, the best learner, the best teacher-- the best at my pursuits! Here amongst the crying instrumental crescendos, I make my pact with the line! I sign the dotted line with my sweat and swear to never stray from my mission. I am resolute. I stride towards the light.
****
Ke$ha comes on. Great. Just what I needed now after that burst of inspiration. A bunch of auto-tuned stupidity. I’m too tired for this-
"Maybe I need some rehab. Maybe I just need some sleep. I’ve got a sick obsession, I’m seeing it in my dreams. I’m looking down every ally. I’m making those desperate calls. I’m staying up all night hoping, hitting my head against the walls!"
Well played, Ke$ha.
****
SHUT THE F--- UP! GET UP! (WAHH WAHH WUB WAAAHH WUB) SHUT THE F--- UP, GET UP!
Back to nu metal. Half mile to go. My right nipple is the only thing that’s chafing. I question the randomness of my body. I thank koRn for the extra boost of energy. I’ve gone 13.5 miles. I know my GPS will say less. Stupid thing short-sells me. It always does.
I’ve got 600 meters to go. If I go 2:00 for it, I’ll get home before 7:00. I could do it. 5:20 pace is a brisk exertion for me now. Thanks Dror.
400 meters to go. I don’t care about pace. I just want to finish. I feel like I’m about ready to puke my entire stomach. Rank.
300 meters. Wub wub wahbhh wauh wuuuooh.
200. Time’s looking grim these days…
100. GET UP!
****
I’m done. The run is over. 14 miles. Dang. It’s the longest run I’ve ever set out to accomplish. I don’t think I’ll make those pancakes. I don’t much feel like eating. Maybe just a bowl of cereal. After I sit down in the grass for a second.
The day is nice. The sun is up. I’ve chased the light. I caught it. I won.
So why do good girls like bad guys? I’ve had this question for a real long time.”
Me too. But I don’t care to think about it right now. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m done thinking for a bit. I’ve chased the light. I caught it. And I won.
****
Time for breakfast.
Hello. My name is Peter Licari and I’m a distance runner/ freelance writer. I’ve been running since I was in fifth grade and I’ve been writing for even longer. I ran for Hagerty High School under the tutelage of Matt Malkovich and Jay Getty. I was the MVP in Track and Cross Country for four years and currently hold the school record in every distance event and relay (and, incidentally, the school record for the most school records). While I was racing, I was also heavily focusing on my writing. I penned three unpublished, full-length novels and scores of published articles and poems. Running and writing are my two major passions and I pursue both of them with equal zeal. I managed to win four district titles and qualify for four state championships between the two sports. In regards to writing, I received the creative writing superlative at my high school for my stories and articles. I have been fortunate enough to be able to continue my running career on scholarship at the University of Tampa while being extremely humbled with the opportunity to write for Distance Preps.
Read more: DistancePreps.com - The Future Runs Now - Blogs - Peter Licari - Chase Pack Review: An Eventful Misnomer Jim Ryun Invitational 2012 http://www.runnerspace.com/gprofile.php?mgroup_id=31488&do=blogs&blog_id=6206#ixzz2FSaffktx
