And the Pavement Sparkles like the Snow Used to

I've never liked running inside on treadmills. There is nothing to look at but the amount of time that has painfully passed since I began, or if running in front of a mirror, my knees. After watching them bend and straighten countless times, they begin to look strangely foreign to me, like they don't belong to me. After that weirds me out, I turn to my feet. The initially mesmerizing rhythm the humming treadmill forces me to adhere to, eventually gets a little old and I return to my knees, and so it goes.
It has been warm enough to run outside for a little while now and I never want to step on another treadmill.
I'm glad I don't know Rexburg that well yet. I can still run out into an unknown area and just get lost for a little while. I keep my phone with me and I usually know about where I am, but I LOVE not quite recognizing my surroundings as I run by them. When I know where I am and exactly how far it is from home, all I think about is how far I have left to go. It sucks the fun out of it entirely. When I'm surrounded by unfamiliarity I feel like I can just run forever, further and further into nothing. I can become lost in my imagination as well as my surroundings. I close my eyes for seconds at a time and try to just feel myself run. I sometimes think I could fall asleep while still pumping my legs. I remember times in my life that made me laugh, or smile. Then I wonder what the good people of Rexburg think about a girl running down the street with a smile slapped on her face. I imagine what people I know and love are doing at that moment. I imagine conversations I could potentially have with someone in the world. I think of ways I could have said or done things better. If I had the choice I wouldn't change much. I think about my future. I occasionally wonder and hope I'll somehow end up back at my dorm at the end of my run. I see things and wonder how they came to be, like a bench sitting on the sidewalk outside a wood shop. It's massive, looks like it's made out of a tree trunk, and costs $250.00. Who would buy that? I don't say that critically, I really would just like to meet the person who buys it. Other times I move my lips along to whatever song is playing in my ears. I sing along in my mind and make the appropriate facial expressions, which I suppose also looks fairly silly.
I speed up as I get closer to home. My legs hurt. I go faster. I feel fast, but I'm not. I run past the door and slow to a stop. I don't go inside right away, instead I collapse on the ground. I lay on my back with my hands behind my head and feel like I'm absorbing something, but I'm not sure what. Maybe it's the endorphins talking. I wait for my breath to slow, until all I can hear is my heartbeat, I actually feel it pumping. I lay in the shade and stare at whatever is directly above me, occasionally closing my eyes and thinking about how good this feels, until I start to get cold and stiff. I suck whatever pleasure is left out of the grass I'm laying on, then I pick myself, drag myself inside, and start a blog entry.