This was the time that I spent running on the treadmill two days ago.  I can be a little neurotic, crazy, insane, ADD these were a few diagnoses that my best friend John would say to me when I would run on the treadmill. He called me these things because I would try to explain to him how my brain works when running on the treadmill. John would always seem to call me at the point of my run when my mind was being twisted about my stopping point thus causing me to take my run-on the treadmill to the cooling down period.

“James, how many miles have you run?” He would ask. What I would respond with was 10, 11 or 12. “Bitch you’re crazy, I would have stopped at 1 mile, and you are trying to figure out when is a good time to stop. You need help.” You see I would insist on stopping only if the timer on the treadmill showed an even number, that was with time spent and numbers of miles ran. Now those number would never really line up evenly per se, but I would finally come to a finish at-the-end of a good song sometimes. Yes, the music that I was listening to on my phone factored into this madness of completing my run as well. It was all a bit looney I can agree with John but I also felt that it was a part of my runners high.

Talking to John during the cool-down period was always nice though. It gave us time to catch up on life. He would and could always make me laugh no not just laugh ROAR with laughter. We would talk about a lot and nothing at all during my forced cool down period. All along while I was still inside my head trying to find even numbers on the keyboard as to when I should stop. He would fill me in on his mom – Kathy. Talk about a boy loving his mother. He was an only child and his mother Kathy had him at 18, so they were more than just mother and son, they were friends.

I remember the first time I met his mother. It was at a gay establishment. We met for cocktails after work. “James my mom is going to meet us for cocktails at the gay bar.” I almost jumped out of my skin. “Your mother is going to do what with us?” I said. You see my mother would not meet me at a gay bar and nor would I had asked her to in those early days of my gay life. I met up with John and his mother already thinking of just how I should behave being all southern and still a bit closeted at the time. I walk into the bar, and there sat John and his mother. He introduces us and all I can remember is that she reminded me of John. She welcomed me, made me feel comfortable without really doing anything at all. We would hang out with his mom several times after that, for dinner, brunch and even Christmas dinners at her place. She was a special kind of mom which explains why she and John were so close she LOVED him and he LOVED her.

My friend John died July 2018. There is no other way to say it than that. It just simplifies it for me however it’s hardly simple. John was a beautiful shining light in my life. I know a lot of people say that so let me try and say it better after all John always told me that I was a writer and GOOD he would say. Knowing John for the past 31 years was like life being pressed up against me reminding me to live, be myself and that light should never be darkened but continuously be drenched with kerosene. That was John and how he lived. John had been living with HIV since 1990. I remember the day that he told me. I said, “John you’re too evil to die so you’ll be here a long time.” He would smile that lips pressed together smile at me and nod his head laughing.  “I don’t know “gurl” we’ll see.”  We did see at 40years old. I took him out for his Birthday. It was a Birthday lunch. “James, can you believe that I am 40? I didn’t think that I would be around this long. I have to start planning for retirement and shit.” He said laughing but being totally serious. I responded with my usual with him. “John you’re too evil to die.”

Thing is John was not evil. I said that for me. Truth is I did not want my friend to be sick I didn’t want him to be HIV-Positive any more than he did. It was my way of coping with his disease. I also hoped that it would help him too. Okay, so I am going to stop right there not because it ended there. John and our friendship lived on for another 7years. I loved this guy. I was there when he got married to the love of his life in 2013. I just unfortunately for me was not there for his death which I found out was just the way he wanted. That selfish bitch! Thankfully I knew him well enough to understand why he wanted it that way.

God, I miss him so much. I miss the phone calls and the stopping by him and his husband’s medical practice in the West Village to say hello and chat. He was a presence in that office, and you knew it. I miss his presence. I miss his eyes, his smile, and his life.

I stopped at 1HR9, and I heard John’s voice in my head – That’s where he resides now. Telling me “Gurl” stop with the ADD shit or you’ll be on that treadmill forever! I laughed at myself and did not make it an even number in honor of John. It doesn’t mean that I will stop like that all the time, but when I don’t and find myself chasing the neurosis of my runner’s mind on the treadmill, John will be there just like I need him to be.