I have a shitty theme song.

I listen to music as I run.  It turns my head right side in.  It percolates meaning through the bland rhythm of my Nike's.

I listen to King's of Leon and the Raconteurs and in my head I am covered in mud sliding and dancing between other sliders and dancers on the grassy knolls of Grant Park during Lollapalooza.  Or I listen to Binary Star, K'naan, and Mos Def and I'm throwing beats down with Jay-Z at the MTV after after after party while Beyonce stares at my ass.  Or I take up arms with Rage Against the Machine and One Day as a Lion and plant elbows and fists on The Man as he tries to bring this brother down.  Or I construct the ultimate drama with the tragedies of Zoe Keating filled with love, tears, crisis, and happy endings smothered by unhappy endings.  

So stuck in my head, I don't realize how long I run.  I look up and find I'm home.  The music stops and the earphones come off.   My true theme song, the one that stacks the grand scales of my intoxicating life, should soon blare down from the heavens, engulfing everyone in the magnificent show that is me.

And then I realize, no one but me is listening.  I open the door, walk upstairs, take a shower, drink some water, eat some dinner, and watch some TV.  The music never starts.  At least until my next run...