Just Don't Die

Run

The sweat dripped off Blaine's chin and brow onto the frosted ground as the steam from his heavy breaths obscured his vision. His lungs burned, his legs were cramping, but his head was clear. On the one hand, he hated having to start over with his physical fitness. On the other hand, he also relished the chance to start a life of fitness earlier. Plus, it was something he knew he could reasonably control.

Aside from fitness, his entire world was in too much chaos for him to feasibly make any realistic predictions or goals. For now, school had become nothing more than something to do to kill time. He would answer any questions directed at him, and he did his work without any real effort, but it was all just to get him to the weekend so he would have more time to think about what he could do in the future.

His interactions with his friends were minimal. Lex soon became the only one he looked forward to talking to during school hours. He would go off campus for lunch and was usually among the first to leave the parking lot after school. Anytime someone would ask what was going on or offer to hang out, he would respond by saying he was swamped but would make it up to them over the weekend. As for Melanie, he convinced her he was having some problems at home and would talk to her about it as soon as he had more time. He still wasn't sure what he would tell her. She had even called his home phone and left a message with his mom. He hadn't called her back yet and wasn't sure if he would. He was at a loss as to how to handle these relationships that would mean absolutely nothing in a few years, especially since he couldn't just communicate through text or email, which he would have preferred.

Once he caught his breath, he was off again. His legs and lungs had no endurance, but he distracted himself from the pain by focusing his attention on the open field he was now running through. Memories of riding his bike through this field when he was younger and hunting elk with Kalvin when he was older, blurred with mental images of the new hospital that would start construction in less than a decade.

Ideas and questions started to flood his brain. How much could he make if he bought some of this land now and then resold it when the price went up for the hospital? How much could he change? How much should he change? Coming back had already changed everything, but would it be more beneficial to leave most things the same? The less he changed, the more predictable the future would be, but the more he knew, the more he would want to change.

He stopped to catch his breath again, staring at the beauty of the rays of pure sunlight breaking through the trees and refracting the golden light off of every crystal on each blade of grass. Even through his wheezing, the frozen morning air filled his lungs and spirit in ways he didn't think were possible anymore. Faint enough that he almost didn't believe he heard it, a distant train whistle drifted through the frozen air. The hair on the back of his neck bristled at the forgotten memory.

He glanced at his new wristwatch, intentionally avoiding reaching for his non-existent cell phone, and started the run back home. Setting a mental goal to run back to his house without stopping gave him enough time to shower and grab a quick breakfast before heading out with his dad. This day could completely change the trajectory of his future, and he couldn't wait to spend the time with his dad.

His mind began to wander again as his breathing began to match his running pace. Would he have joined the army so readily had his dad still been around? Or if 9/11 hadn't happened? If he didn't join the army, what should he do instead? The existential questions became more profound and philosophical the closer he got to home. Could he just shift back again if he screws something up? Are these people around him the same people as before, since their realities have changed, and thus, their experiences and personalities will be different, however subtle? If he is able to figure out a way to come back again and again, does anything really matter? With all the money in the world at his fingertips and essentially an omniscient memory of anything pertinent to his life, he would have no actual limits.