The Morning Chase: Encounters on the Run ©Dawn Minott

On By Dawn MinottIn Poetry

I’m writing this post from the Metro. 🚇

Most mornings, I run to catch the train—let’s start there.

If I take a leisurely walk, it’s about eight minutes. A brisk pace? Six minutes. Either way, I’d arrive at the station with time to spare, breathing normally like most any other commuter. But no, not me. Almost every morning, I somehow end up with the four-minute option.

That’s the Bolt. As in Usain Bolt.

Yes, it’s a full sprint. In running shoes, no problem. In high heels, dressed for work, pocketbook in tow? A whole different kind of Olympic event.

There are no fellow commuters on this path—just me, tearing through the quiet morning streets. If I’m lucky, a kind passenger will hold the train doors hostage just long enough for me to make my dramatic entrance. I bolt into the last car—that’s as far as my exhausted body can make it. I collapse into a seat, gasping out a barely audible “thank”—GASP—“you” to my door-jamming hero.

This morning was no exception. Four minutes before the train was due to arrive, my brisk walk turned to a jog-walk then a full-on sprint. Off I go, the usual fiasco playing out—except this time, a driver pulled up alongside me.

Driver: “Beautiful lady—” (Right then, I knew he was Caribbean.) “Is de train yuh a run down?” (Oh, he’s Jamaican!) “Yuh wan’ta ride?!”

Me: (Panting, because by now, I’ve hit the incline—yes, there’s a hill involved in all this.) “No man, we awrite!” I don’t break stride. There’s a train to catch, after all.

Driver: “Awrite, pretty lady.” (Sweet-mouth Jamaican, I thought with a smile in his direction.) And with that, he speeds off.

So, like I said—I’m writing this post from the Metro …finally breathing normally again, swearing I won’t do this again.

…till tomorrow.

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In creative solidarity, Dee

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