Why I Run

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WhenI run,
I pretend I'm running away from my troubles.
When I'm mad,
I run to get rid of my feverish energy.
I love the speed and the wind in my face.
My hair is flying behind me.
All my frustrating knots of life untangle and cling to the ends of my hair.
The faster I go, the harder it is for the knots to hang on.
Eventually they let go and I'm light as a feather.
Then I'm going top speed-what a thrill!
Then I get tired and I have to stop.
But emotionally I feel great;
and I don't mind the hot sweat coming down my forehead,
or the pain in my side.
I can't wait to do it again.
For that's as close as L can get to flying.





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