Black Dog Running

Today I ran with my Black Dog. The Black Dog. Side by side through the howling wind and stinging rain. So together I absorbed his anxieties, his panic, his fear and his loathing. I couldn’t shake him off. We were Siamese like. Joined at the hip. Through the woods he dragged me haunched to the ground. Labouring through the leaf mulch and ever deepening mud, rocks and stones shredding my hands and knees. Dodging falling branches becoming harder as the mud became thicker. Sometimes I’d begin to rise, to straighten to get free only for a sideways gust to whip a branch up into my face and drop me again to my knees. A salty mix of sweat and blood flowing into my mouth from my nose or the sting of red leaking into my eye from a split above. Either way enough to instantly put me down and gasp for breath. Every moment of relief, every burden offloaded, just a momentary pause. I ran today searching for a clarity that seemed impossible to find. There were glimmers. Miko and Chief tried to draw me away from the Black Dog, tried to free me, but a sharp ‘no’ called them away before I could be free. A wondering thought to something more snowflakey would see me almost straight, almost breathing free, almost in reach of the unobtainable light at the end of the tree lined tunnel. Every step became a chore, a reason to stop. Extra laps added as punishment for weakness increasing the frustration. Hips taking the brunt of each laboured effort up the hill. It wasn’t until the last lap that I took control, found a moment of clarity, tamed the dog constantly lurking in the background. Successfully dodged the remaining branches and skipped over the mud with a lighter feel. I’d gone out for 8 miles of control. I’d finished with nearly 12 and a resolve to try again. To be a better man.