Run (#MindOverMatter)

Run

I finish last in every sprint.

Even Paige runs faster than you, and she's got the worst stick skills on the team.

No matter how long I hold my breath, try to lengthen my stride, I don't get faster.

It's your fifth burst of seventeen and Sloane is already on nine.

This is why Coach doesn't play me.

This is why you walk at the back of the line.

Practice is canceled. I plan on finishing a sleeve of oreos and a season of the Flash.

My mom is out at the gym, my dad at a friend's. I sit alone on our couch, my running shoes playing dead by the door.

Maybe if I just run to the bridge and do a lap on my way back, I won't feel so bad about not exercising until next Monday.

You won't get any faster.

I slip into a new pair of socks and the familiar mold of my Asics. The front door gasps when I pull it open.

Why do you even bother?

My first few steps are careful, but when I hit the corner, I explode.

I run past a neighbor dressed in fancy clothes with a man on her hip. I run past a ten-year-old boy chasing after his dog.

I run past cars going five miles above the speed limit. I run past a dead lizard on the side of the path.

I run past two bikers swerving between lanes. I run past a lawn in desperate need of mowing.

I run past the point of being out of breath. I run past the pain, and the sweat, and the tears. 

I run past the bridge.

You're not any faster.

No, but I'm not any slower either.

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WC: 292