It was like running in a movie, specifically a Disney classic. I half expected to see Bambi saunter by as I ran through my neighborhood.
I didn’t realize how much I missed running in the morning. I knew I didn’t enjoy running on the treadmill, even when it allowed me to watch ESPN. I thought running outside was good enough. If I rarely experienced the runner’s high, at least I was outside. Then, my schedule temporarily changed, allowing me to go for an early morning run.
The street was quiet and somewhat dark, as I started my run. I heard my breathing deepen in a way I can’t on noisy evening streets. The birds sang to each other, although it felt like they were singing to me. I saw a rabbit (the father in me wants to write bunnies, as the man in me fights against such a word) and then some more. Gradually, the sky lightened, as the sun began its slow rise. I allowed myself to run in an unfamiliar area, sensing that the newness of the experience would add to my elation. Suddenly, looking to my left, I saw the river. It seemed to not be moving, as, almost like a mirror, it reflected the sky. Even, when I ended up in a more industrial area, the trucks turning onto the street from the factory moved in me in their rhythmic consistency.
Suddenly, I came to “Death Hill”, the name I have chosen for the toughest hill in my area, which runs parallel to a cemetery. Feeling good, I chose to tackle the hill. I pushed hard, but ultimately, towards the top, it tackled me. Still, as I paused for a few seconds to catch my breath, I felt blessed to be alive.
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