The Run

I run.

I ran today when it was cold outside. When the pavement was still soggy from the morning rain and the boardwalk groaned under my feet. I ran as the sun descended beyond the leafless trees. When the earth turned grey and cheerless. The damp air turned my sweat cold on my skin. Color faded from the sky and the birds above fought against wind. Florida bared her melancholy. When the long leaves of the pampas bushes reached for my face, when a misty spray threatened rain, when the long trail remained deserted, when home stretched miles away – I kept running.