i ran so fast,
like a bullet through the air
and i enjoyed it;
i enjoyed it enough to want to go on like this forever
but i couldn't, my body didn't want me to
(more) and it stopped me.
i wanted to chase after you too.
but they didn't let me.(less)
Aunt Edith had a heart attack and collapsed in the tomato garden when I was six.
What started as a sleepover at Anna's house turned into skinnydipping at the lake with the neighborhood boys.
Cameron was tall and cute and I kind of(more) liked him a little, but when he turned to me and asked me on a date,
The gun fires at the track meets, and I run. I am faster than fast. I can outrun anything. I swallow first place ribbons and leave behind my troubles. Aunt Edith's face, crinkled in pain, is swallowed by the dust. The feverish darkness at the lake drips off my skin like sweat. Cameron's nervous grin is gone with the pumping of my arms.
Coach says I'm the best runner he's had in years. He compliments my training regimen. But what Coach doesn't know is that running isn't training for me. Running is therapy. Running is an escape. Running is a release. Running is life.
I failed a presentation. My ordered notecards fell out of my hands and I tripped over my words. I was too ashamed to ride the bus home, where my classmates could see me. My house was sixteen miles from the school.
I was at someone's house for a pool party and my bikini strap came undone as I was standing on the diving board for all to see.
Anna told me I should stop running.
One day my laces will come undone. One day I'll run out of air. I know this. I know that one day, running will no longer be enough.
He was made of sunlight, and I wish that he had known that. You could stretch your hands as far as they'd go, run a mile past that, and take a train, and you'd still be illuminated by his light.
Sunlight burns if you get too close, and yo(more)u can't escape this one. (less)
I have been running from something all my life. It's that fear that wakes you up in the middle of the night, unnamed and faceless, and all you know is that it's got your heart beating way faster than it should be. If I knew what it was, could(more) call it by name, I could exercise power over it. I could turn and face it, see it fully, and release its grip on my heart one dark finger at a time until I was free. But, for now, it lurks in shadows, nipping at my heels, frightening me into a panicked race toward an end I cannot foresee.
So I run. I run to give my heart a reason to beat so quickly. I push myself through dark streets, sprinting across the no-man's-land outside the pooled purview of street lamps.
Sometimes I run in dark alleys on purpose, daring that nameless, faceless creature of my fear to leap out from behind dumpsters or from darkened doorways. I crave that adrenaline spike that will push me further faster.
I run, breathing out the fear with each misty exhalation, sending it curling up into the atmosphere where it can dissipate into harmless single molecules, tiny pin pricks of self doubt instead of the lung full of dread I expelled.
I run in my sleep, legs twitching across queen sized bedsheets, unsure of chasing or being chased until I sit up in a cold sweat with a heart pounding out a rhythm that feels less like panic and more like exertion, staring into the darkness of my closet door, willing again the beast I fear to show itself, just once, so I may know the face of my enemy: the face shining, white and terrified, in the mirror.(less)
She uses running as a means to escape her problems, to a destination she doesn't quite know where, or if it even exists. The pavement beneath her feet was wet from the rain earlier that morning, the clouds above her still grey cotton balls shielding any sight of the(more) earth's blue ceiling. Her shins stung with each slap on the ground, and her breathing became rugged as each step she took became more of a challenge. But the air was cool and soothed her nostrils with each inhalation. These feelings were the ones that told her she was really alive. Although her demons chased her wherever she went, they would never have her in their grasp. (less)
"Let's go running, they said. It's great fun, they said. I need better friends. " Gina gasped out on the treadmill.
"What was that," Mina removed one of her earbuds, easily keeping pace with her treadmill. Gina gritted her teeth. "Nothing."
"Are you sure?" (more) "Nope, I'm just glad I have such...nice friends to go running with." Gina bit out.
Mina's dark brown eyes lit up at Gina's comment.
"I'm so glad! Lina said you wouldn't care to come running but I was right--" Mina beamed.
"For once in your life, congrats."
Mina wilted. She looked over Gina's shoulder to Lina on the adjacent treadmill.
"I've been right other times as well!"
Gina rolled her eyes. Mina and Lina seemed to be starting up yet again. On the brightside, that meant that she could focus on running as opposed to attempting to hold a semi-coherent conversation whilst refraining from coughing up her lungs.
She reached for her ear buds and put them in. Then she reached for her water and forgot that she didn't replace the cap and it spilled. And gravity felt like reminding Gina that they were best friends.
"F--- MY LIFE!"
"OMIGOD GINA ARE YOU OKAY?"
"NO GENIUS, SHE'S JUST LYING ON THE GROUND BECAUSE TREADMILL NAPS ARE A NEW FAD."
"LINA, COULD WE REFRAIN FROM OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULE SNARK TO RECOGNIZE FACT THAT I'M KIND OF BLEEDING?"
Lina immediately switched gears.
She knelt on the gym floor next to Gina and raised her hand in front of Gina's face. "Okay, how many fingers am
I holding up?"
Gina blinked. "Um, I'm not wearing my glasses?"
"Try." She squinted. "Ow, three?
Lina lowered her hand. "Good enough."
"Oi, Energizer Bunny, help me with Princess here."
"God, I hate running." Gina muttered. (less)
maybe if you run fast enough you won't be able to hear the void anymore. stare into it, do not break, continue this for a lifetime: the prescription sounds much easier on paper, or at least much more romantic.
in reality, it's a gnawing at the edges o(more)f your vision, a faint whispering when it's very quiet. the void beckons. you have to meet it eventually. you want it to be on your terms, but as with many things, that is much easier said than done. when it comes down to the daily grind, the day-to-day, unexciting, unsexy routine, you're more or less sitting there waiting for the void to swallow you up.
some people say that the void is the fundamental characteristic of everything humans have created, the thing that drives every structure, story, behavior which goes beyond mere physical survival. some people say that the void isn't actually a void, explaining that it just looks that way sometimes but don't get discouraged!
at the bottom level of reality, particles dance around as if they know we're watching, making decisions that bely the claims that "everything" is a meaningful concept and that existence is consistent.
but zoom out a bit to your life. you're going to die and you're pretending you're not. what are you doing?(less)
running running running running running running running running running running running running running i hate running what the fuck i really really hate runny like what the fuck, it fucking wears me out and i get tired in like less than two minutes heck, i even hate walking just(more) hold on a couple hours, i gotta run to the bathroom 'cause my bowels are killing me. i hate physical education when we have to run, like why the fuck? the p.e. teachers should run first to demonstrate the "good posture" of running. they fucking make you run like 2 miles, like fuck, i can't even do one fourth of a half mile. oh my god this is so funny it's killing my bowels, fuck i'm eating cheez-its while i'm shitting in the bathroom and i'm also typing this up the the bathroom too i have like a couple hours left to be in the bathroom but i'm not coming out until i clear up my nasty bowels. what the fuck, i should really talk about running instead of cheez-its and bowels. wow this is so long, i have other stuff to do but i really want to finish this but i really need to do other things. we should do this in school, it beats doing anything else, especially in english class 'cause my dumb boring teacher is so dumb and boring. she seriously show us dumb boring movies everyday that everyone, literally, everyone is falling asleep and she's the only enjoying the dumb boring movie because she is dumb and boring also. she's so boring that you fall asleep everyday even when she's talking about shit no one really cares about and she threatens people too, like what the fuck is wrong with you? anyway, i really hate running.(less)
Running from insults.
Running from criticism.
Running from others' expectations.
Running from my own.
Running to keep up.
Running for my life.
(more) Running from distractions.
Running from myself.
Yup, just another day.(less)
Never stand still. Always in motion. If you can't keep up then you will be left behind. I won't stop, can't stop. Everything is before me and nothing can wait. People, places, hopes, and dreams, all drop behind as I move forward. I don't know what I'm running from,(more) or what I'm running towards but one day I will find it. (less)
I only caught a slight glimpse of those sharp silver fangs as the tree branches slammed one after the other into my head. I can feel its breath creeping closer like a cold winter breeze. Everything is racing as I continue forward not caring where I end up as long(more) as it isn't here! I can make out a light whistling noise over my loud panting and something flies right past my eyes causing me to stumble and fall to the ground. It was only in this moment I got a good look at my pursuer and even still its hard to believe. Scared of what stands before me I stagger to my feet and start running as fast as I can, to anywhere I can, and never will I stop for anything for fear of this repugnant beast.(less)
my feet smacked the ground a steady slap slap slap that sent small bursts of pain up my legs my lungs strained for air each breath a rusty dagger going in and out my muscles burned my body screamed for me to stop but i couldn't stop i wouldnt(more) stop because if i stopped then everything would catch up to me and it was better to keep running through the pain than to be tangled in her death and his death and as long as i kept running faster and faster and faster and focused on the pain and the distance that separated me and the memories the scene the bodies then i wouldnt have to think about the crash or the graves or the long nights ahead i could concentrate on the here and now and feel only this physical pain instead of the mental anguish that would drown me if i stopped so i ran as far as as fast as long as i could the fire in my muscles the daggers in my lungs the pain in my legs i could deal with if it meant not having to deal with their deaths(less)
Running was the only physical activity Isabella genuinely hated.
She had hated the feeling of her feet slapping the cheap cement of her high school's track. She had hated the sweat that would drip from her forehead and made her back slick. She had hated how, by the en(more)d of the period, she would be struggling to get oxygen to her lungs and the painful feeling of weight on her chest. She hated how unstable and wobbly her legs felt and most of all...
... she hated running simply because she couldn't do it anymore.
Isabella sat in her wheel chair across the street from her school's track. She had a clear view, through the fence, of the track team practicing for their upcoming meet that Thursday.
She sighed longingly as she watched each one sprinting around the track, never loosing stride. Some were slower than others and some looked ready to collapse but the only thing that drew Isabella's attention was everyone's legs.
Looking down from the track team, she stared at where her legs used to be. She had decided to leave her prosthetic leg at home and dig herself deeper into her pit of depression. She had lost her legs in a car accident. The whole front of the car had slammed into her legs, crushing them beyond repair. Amputation was needed, and she was strapped to a wheelchair and handed fake legs a few months later.
Isabella missed walking, running, using her legs more than anything. She cried every night and prayed to God that it was all a bad dream.
She always woke up the next day to relive the horrible truth.
As she looked back up at the track team again and again. Every day until one day... inspiration hit. (less)