Go B

Go to work and lose yourself today. It's busier than you expected, and you don't mind having your attention focused on non-stop tasks all day.

***

Go out for lunch and slop soup all over your shirt, you fool.

***

Go for a walk with your friend as she picks your brain, even as you tell her that you think she knows what she needs to do but cannot bring herself to do it.

***

Go for a run, again, even though you have a big project or four looming. Listen to that urge and hit the track.

Go lap after lap, still plodding along as you're lapped by sprinters who arrive and leave in succession.

Go three miles, you tell yourself, because anything less would be a copout.

Go those three and tell yourself as you keep going that you're into bonus mileage.

Go more laps as the baseball field next door cuts the lights and you're in the dark, illuminated by the flash of lightning over north Fort Worth.

Go on and zap me, but make sure you kill me, because I don't wanna walk away from this with a limp, you joke with the sky.

Go four miles and realize you've got more in you. Everyone else is gone, and you're still out there doing laps.

Go the fifth mile and ease down, finally, to walk that last lap.

***

Go to the store and get your kids some breakfast. You're lost in your head, standing at the checkout. You're tingling all over, and you taste the salt on your lips. It makes you smile.

***

Go for another round, old man, as you try to match the 17-year-old in Muay Thai. You fail, somewhat, but when you're done you catch your breath at the side of the mat with those who've been there with their hands on their knees this whole time.

***

Go fill your cup, B.

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Go bring in the trash can, finally, as MOBB peers out the back door, wondering where you've been.

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Go six miles with Whit and tell him, "We've got this mother****** right here."

Go nine miles and Whit's nowhere to be seen and you realize you were wrong.

***

Go is what you always do, B. Sometimes it's the wrong thing to do. Maybe someday you'll learn.