The Truth About Tigers

Worn soles slap wet pavement.
My breath falls in step
with the city’s early pulse.

One, two, three, four—
not chasing euphoria so much
as seeing if it might show up anyway.

The right knee complains.
The Achilles tightens.
Discomfort tags along,
as it usually does.

By mile two, warmth settles in.
Muscles loosen.
Thoughts thin out
without asking permission.

No music. No voices.
Just rain and effort,
pain softens into something else,
something close enough to joy
I don’t argue with it.

Past mile six, an idiot’s grin—
legs going numb,
heart feeling strangely light,
as if this could continue indefinitely,
which of course it can’t.

Life intervenes.
The road ends.
Walking feels awkward,
now.

I collapse on the driveway,
rain-speckled, still smiling,
stealing a small, private victory
before the rest of the world
wakes up and asks for things.