Folders |
Fabian Returns!
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Fabian sits alone in Starbucks, counting the calories of his marionberry muffin as each chew goes down. The sun cuts through the glass and seems to be shining directly in his face. His squinted eyes and erractic watch reflection can attest to that. Two carefully tucked in wires run seemlessly into his ears playing Duran Duran at 3/4 volume from his iPod nano. People watching doesn't seem nearly as important as his caloric intake, but then again it never does. Not to Fabian. Not today. As each song reaches the chorus he bobs his head in acceptance. At first glance it would appear that that he is hell bent on that muffin; although, his morning run is lingering in his thoughts. He approaches each morning run as he does the 1500: The first 800- All training The 3rd lap- All character The last 300- All heart His usual 5 mile trot suddenly takes on a new importance. For the last several weeks, he has dreaded the last mile. Not for the pain or lack of finishing kick but rather for the english bulldog who has patiently awaited his return. "All heart" he tells himself as another set of crumbs fall into his lap. His runs have all ended in a bloody kick as he passes the final stretch on the Amazon loop and one particular unfenced blue victorian style duplex, which is the home of his arch enemy, Theodore. He probably wouldn't even know his name but a week or so ago Theodore's owner, an old woman in a shawl ran after her beloved while cursing the thin harrier for disturbing his beauty sleep. On his off days, Fabian would drive by the house looking for Theodore, making mental notes of his habits. Each passing day building more courage to tap into on his next encounter. Fabian even kept a daily log of Theodore in his laptop. That was until his computer took a vitamin water bottle in the lcd screen. One morning he was scrolling through the newest uploaded videos on Runnerspace and quickly became enraged at the slow downloading speed he was encountering. 30 seconds was too much for him. "This is 2007!" he yelled in his angry high-pitched squeal before he attacked the screen with his half-empty PowerC bottle. That was the last breath his laptop ever took. As he finished the last bite of his muffin he made a vow: Today, Theodore would pay. Before he left Starbucks he ordered a shot of espresso. "Make that a double," he confidently exclaimed before his order went through. Liquid courage he reassured himself. Before his run he stuffed 2 honey sticks into his spandex pocket, double laced his flats and glanced at his reflection as the LTD bus passed the curb. As his first step collided with the freshly rained upon concrete his heart skipped a beat. This would be no ordinary run and he felt it with every fiber in his body. To be continued.......................... |