Memory Run

At 5am, UCLA is mine. The walkways and hills, normally overflowing with students, lie utterly empty. The usual bustle surrounding the medical center is replaced by eerie silence and occasionally interrupted by birds anticipating dawn somewhere on the other end of campus. They, however, remain my only company. Bruin Walk is not crammed with students, their groups and clubs; radical evangelists, giddy and bubbly sorority girls; calmly apathetic fraternity guys and those passionate few who pursue their loves like Medieval knights to their damsel beloveds. The buildings themselves make the atmosphere only more eerie; lights shine within, but no movement or life is seen, as if the Second Coming happened last night as 9:37 and the buildings were completely gutted of all traces of life, save the few glowing incandescent bulbs.

Nearing the finish of my three-mile run, I mentally prepare for the final push up the long stairs to the Royce quad above. Stomping up each step, I wander my mind to remove my thoughts from my burning thighs. I remember that atop these steps, at the memorial fountain after an ordinary class, I proposed to my wife and had two friends record, and one snap photos.

The class was 17th century religious literature, and we both loved the tiny 15 member senior seminar. I think about the picnic we subsequently went on at the Getty museum; how we were scolded and warned for having an open bottle of wine, and how we snacked on cheese, fruit, and crackers, and then went to the café to drink our wine and call our friends and family. I then remember taking her shopping for a new dress to wear at dinner that night, which we spent at beautiful ocean-viewing table, enjoying Italian seafood and each other. I think of sleeping next to her, how it’s better than I ever imagined, and how I see her last each night and first each morning, and how she hay be most beautiful when she sleeps.

I then wonder why I’m even awake at this hour, let alone running more than I usually do. When did my mind convince me this was a good idea? But I remember, I did not choose, I could not choose. Lying wide-awake at 4:15 I was called to run, to be outside, to inhale deeply and to exhale mist into the cool morning air. My body and brain were drawn together to this surreal dream, where my body took me places new, and my mind showed me places remembered.