Tell Me What You Know About Dreaming

Another sun sets over the Tucson Mountain Park. The cloudless Arizona sky almost instantly turns to a deep ruby red. Like most evenings, my mind begins to wander.

Although every moment in my passing life is new and fresh, I am overcome with a strange sense of familiarity. For some, racing over 140 miles is it, the end-all, be-all, the pinnacle of their existence. I wish I could relate. Memories of the day have faded quicker than the deep ache in my battered body. The howling wind has calmed and that intoxicating sun has set. When a person goes through a traumatic experience, those most upsetting moments are the first to be forgotten. I remember the pain. I remember telling myself that after today, it was alright if I never ran again. But those memories have lost clarity. They’ve been pushed deep into the part of my brain that allows me to forget. It’s that most crucial facet of my character that allows me to dream tonight.

My dreams are consistent, yet strong willed. Looking back upon that day in Cozumel, some may express admiration; others, dissatisfaction. Regardless, that day happened like any other. It was and still is merely an extension of that dream. A day that can never be replaced, will never be forgotten, but is completed incapable of satisfying that dream. Going fast in Cozumel was never my dream. Finishing time is irrelevant. My dream burns as deep as it ever has. Like every year, time has shaped and changed my life’s aspirations. But the beauty of a dream is its ability to change overtime while remaining true to its original form. As long as I keep chasing, the ending to my story will always be right.