Running: Arya

English
Mrs. Ziggermans
9th grade
Arya Glasa Devora
Running

Running; I’m always running, running from my past, running from my future, running from my problems, running is natural for me, it is instinctual like breathing. When I pump my legs and take off in a sprint, the gavel crunching under my feet, I feel safe, in some high untouchable place. Soaring above the clouds and into the Milky-Way. When I run all the pesky evil ‘What ifs’ and ‘doubts’ fall away like leaves falling from trees’. When I am running I am not flying but soaring through the air each long stride at a time. The air crisp in my lungs, my heart thumping so loud in my chest I can hear it in my ears, remaining me I’m still alive. That right now at this very moment I’m not dead, that I am fighting, running is my way to fight, this sickness that consumes me, sometimes though as I race around a corner I fall, hard. I will tumble to the ground sprawled out, exasperated, battered, and bruised, and wish I didn’t have to get back up but to lie in that spot. Through the falling leaves as they covered my body, as the frost nipped at bare skin, as snow settled over me and made me soggy as it melted as flowers popped out of the ground by my head and the sun burned my flesh bright red. Then I realized, as I would lie there that I would experience all that once I was dead, so I would push myself up, brush myself off and start the run again.