Zero minutes: I begin my run.
A brown bushy tailed rat scurries across the collection of flowers near the start.
The towering trees of the oak forest cover the sky, trapping me in the path.
An old broken log lays in my way forcing me to hurdle into pit of mud. 
My black sneakers covered in mud.

15 minutes: I venture through a narrow path enclosed in by plants.
Five bothersome burrs appear on my shorts, poking and nudging me.
While I dealt with the burrs, I fail to notice a sharp and smooth stick that protrudes from a bush.
I brush against the bush as it’s stick slices into my soft skin.
A sticky and gelatinous blood ran down my arm.

30 minutes: Back out on the wood chip trail, I resume my run.
The birds above and around chirp and sing their tones as I pass.
The wind wisps through the trees and plants causing sticks and leaves to jump out. 
I spot a stick and jump onto it. CRACK!
My body smacked the ground, with leaves crinkling and sticks snapping below.

45 minutes: I travel through the open grasslands on my way back.
A bit of blood from my arm leaped to my lips without notice.
The salty and bitterness of blood entered my mouth.
Along with the blood, an unwelcomed bug flew into my mouth. 
My tongue experienced a terrible taste.   

60 minutes: I make my way back on the final stretch of the path.
The damp smell of the grasslands and the perfumed forest crept into my nose.
The fresh scent of the outdoors made the run sweet. 
Then, the aroma from the flowers were like a finish line indicating the end.
My run is over