Running Thoughts: Pool Party and Air Force One

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Running long distances takes me to new places, mentally, physically and emotionally. I’ll spare you a condescending boast about “runner’s high” or how special runners are. In fact, I don’t call myself “a runner.” Instead, I prefer to say, “I run.”

Anyway, I experience fantasies when I run, fantasies I’m generally unable to conjure at any other time. I’d like to share two of these fantasies.


1. I’m at a pool party, probably somewhere in southern California. It may be my birthday. Regardless, the party is clearly for me. The water glows a beautiful neon, and the sun is out, casting a soothing haze. It feels like the 1950s, but it doesn’t have to be; the year is negotiable, and time is ultimately irrelevant. I am on a patio, observing dozens of guests immersed in conversation. Everybody seems to be utterly content and at ease. They are well-dressed and satisfied to be at my party.

There are at least two prominent guests. One of them is Sharon Tate. As you’d expect, she is alluring and smooth. She chats easily with a variety of people, floating around the patio.

The other guest is John F. Kennedy. I see that JFK is surrounded by other men, clearly the center of attention, but despite his stature, he’s just one of the guys. He wears a broad grin and looks preternaturally comfortable. Furthermore, he smiles and laughs often, which is satisfying for me because he’s at my party.

My party didn’t just begin, but it will not be ending soon. Nobody there has any worries. The sun glistens on the turquoise water, and I smile.


2. (Note: I see this from the third-person perspective.)

Air Force One, its magnificent blue and white body soaring through the air, approaches a runway, escorted by four F-16s. I am onboard, and I am the president of the United States. “Howlin’ For You” by The Black Keys provides the soundtrack to this scene. My family is eagerly anticipating my arrival, watching from the tarmac. My dad stares through huge binoculars, beaming with pride at the majestic procession.

I exit the plane and wave confidently to the crowd before descending the carpeted stairwell. The hearty cheers, the red carpet covering the stairs and the bold presidential seal on the fuselage of the airplane remind me that I am the most powerful person on the face of the earth.

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