Why we run

Why we run

It didn't take long for people to find my house.

Now I have security all over the place.

I can hear them outside. They scream for me and it's scary. People know my name. That's weird.

Ten years ago no one dared to know the name, Isabella Jackson.

I got back from reading an hour ago. I really want to go out for a run. I'm contemplating the hour jog to the training centre.

But if I go out, I have to take security.

I march to my room. I put on a tee and some basketball shorts. I strap my phone to my arm. I pick up my wireless earbuds and head out the door.

I have to smile to the public...

I put on my best smile and walk to my front gate. Security sticks to me like glue.

How did these people get through the gate!

I talk to the crowd, "you guys, I'd really love to meet all of you but right now I need to train so I'm going for a run. You guys can come, but only if you can keep up!"

I laugh and start to jog. Half of the group leaves while the other half looks daring. They actually want to run with me.

I start my pace off slowly. I gradually pick up the pace.

An hour run is nothing. The marathon is next week and that will be at least five hours.

About half an hour passes by and the majority of my runners stop.

There are about six people left, excluding my security.

I begin to dash. I have enough stamina for me to get to Lamar's in ten minutes at full speed.

No one can match my pace. Not even my security.

I reach Lamars and enter. Theresa gives me a nod as I greet her. I march right up to the gym.

I hide in the corner where there's a bad camera angle and I use the balance ball. I've broken my workout schedule and I need to get back to work on my own body.

I switch to a wooden balance plank and as I try to lift a leg the sound system screeches, "if Isabella Jackson is in the building please go to the main entrance."

I fall off the damn board.

I run down the ramps instead of the stairs. And I see my security around a small child and Lamar.

"What's going on?" I ask.

Lamar told me that this small boy tried breaking in to see me.

"That's bull. Can you guys back away from him? You aren't police officers!" I glare at all of them.

I soften my expression when I see the boy looks frightened.

"Hey, what's your name?"

"Isadore Scott." He whispers and I grin.

"Do you know who I am Isadore?" I chuckle softly.

He nods, "your Isabella Jackson."

I nod, "how old are you?" I ask him.

He's 9.

I furrow my eyebrows, "what's a small boy like you doing out here alone?"

"I was one of the people at the gate. I was there with my momma. You told us that we can come if we can keep up. My momma said I should go for it. Everyone stopped when you started sprinting but I kept going. I saw the article you did in Argentina. And I think I know the secret."