As my right foot lands in the dirt, dust puffs up around it like panicked villagers fleeing an attack from savages. I cough as the desert fills my mouth and lungs with the earthy tang of sand.
All my life I have run.
While playing tag in kindergarten, I ran. Playing frisbee golf in the third grade with my Cub Scout troop, I ran. When I joined football in the fourth grade, and lacrosse in the fifth grade, I ran. When assigned large homework assignments, I ran. When told that I was the only one who didn’t make the elite lacrosse team, I ran. During my grandma’s final days, I ran.
My breathing becomes deeper, stabilizing and adjusting to my tempo. I look into the night sky with tears carving beautifully ornate patterns in the dust on my face. As I look into the heavens, they seem to beckon me, leading me into the vast nothingness ahead.
All my life I have run.
Eager to explore my surroundings as a kid, I ran up trees to see what was around me better. Never satisfied, I always pushed higher; striving for the highest branch, from which my view of the world would be unobstructed. As I climbed, the limbs became weaker, leading to my eventual, very painful fall to earth.
As I sprint through the Californian desert, lactic acid builds up in my muscles, creating a familiar burn. I ignore the pain and push on, too fearful of what is behind me.
All my life I have run.
Craving a path less traveled, I ran through the unfamiliar trees of the out-of-bounds area on Mount Hood Meadows. As I ran, I became more and more lost, struggling to grasp which way was which, I skied downhill through dangerously small gaps between trees. After six hours of frantic self-exertion and mountaineering, I reached a road and hitched a ride back to the parking lot and my car.
The orange glow of sunlight begins to creep in from the east, giving me company in the form of my shadow as I flee. My heartbeat slowly rises as the sun threatens to take away the darkness of night. The blood pounds through my skull like a bass drum.
All my life I have run.
And what good has it done?
I’ve run from so much in my life, and it has only caused me regret and pain. I slow my pace and ask myself why I am running. I stop, pull out my phone, and dial 9-1-1 to report a rape.