Running

I run on the side of the road dodging puddles that gather in the hollows of the sidwalk.

One step a a time, I go.

Going up and down hills.

Some are gentle, easily accomplished.

Some are steep, making my side cramp and my legs unwilling to go on.

But I continue, sometimes looking forward and sometimes to my left or right.

I don't stop to look back. I've already seen what I've passed.

This time of year, the maple leaves are beautiful, twirling as they fall in varying shades of orange.

Many will persist into winter, turning brown and staying until the harshest, coldest winds.

But today, the breaze creates a soothing rattle, as it coaxes the occasional leaf into a gentle, graceful descent.

Today, my route is short, though the inclined parts make it feel long.

There are four hills, I've just started the last one.

I'm tempted to stop and catch my breath, or at least slow down.

I don't because I'm training.

Sometimes I run only for pleasure, and take a leisurely pace.

But today, I'm training.

The pain is not unendurable, and there is pleasure in finishing strong.

The race is coming soon, and I'm going to be ready.