running is death and resurrection

i wanted to walk up the sunbaked hill but the dog walker coming the other way forbade it. my chest is tight and raspy after a week of flu like symptoms. i run past her and her dog, retching like a binge drinker and hope that somehow i'm doing myself good and that i will expel some of the crappy virus from my system by running hard. after four miles i run over a palm cross lying in the middle of the trail, it is incongruous and out of place and although i run past it i feel it tug me back. it is the voice in the wilderness and it can't be ignored. i pick it up and tuck it under my shirt. i can feel it against my body all the way home. it is the week before easter. running is death and resurrection too.