On running

I do my runs now whenever time permits.  Unlike before, I do not have the luxury to just Forrest Gump my ass everyday at anytime of the day.  I have a job now, it's nothing glamorous but it's a job, it pays the bills and the taxes are shitty.  I miss running, to be honest.  I miss   I'm not an expert and all but I don't do badly either.  I run fast whenever I feel like it.  I run slow whenever I feel like it too (but it's mostly because I need to catch my breath). It's like stroking my Pedro.  I stroke fast because it gets the blood running down there, but when my left (or right) arm gets tired, I slow down.  When I feel I have already regained enough strength, I go blue streak again.  Running and masturbating have a lot of parallels.  Stroke fast, stroke slow.  run fast, run slow.  Holding your breaths. Timing your breaths.  Catching some air. Being in tune with the music playing in your iPod or just being in tune with the music playing in your head.  Then you reach that natural high.  It's self fulfilling.  When I run, it's like I'm masturbating.  I start slow, then I speed up, then I catch my breath a little, then I pick up some speed, then I release my inner Billy Sive. I reach my climax.  After which I feel so spent that I feel like a tweaking two dollar crack whore.  Sweaty and salty, I stretch beside some anonymous tree and pant like there is no tomorrow.  My body jizzes of sweat.  And when I think no one's looking, I lick off the sweat from my shoulders to taste the fruits of my labor. The road is my porn.  Truly.