My ode to running

When life gives you lemons sh!t, put on your sneakers.

Maybe it's the old, familiar trail. Maybe it's the dirt path. Maybe it's the faint smell of horse manure, or the salty smell of the ocean breeze. 

Maybe it's the bluffs fading into the blue horizon. Maybe it's the rhythmic cycle of the waves drowning out my thoughts. Maybe it's the constant swishing of water in my bottle. 

Maybe it's the blinding sun. Maybe it's the hypnotic sound of my own breath. Maybe it's the ever constant pounding of ground underneath me. 

Maybe it's the sweat burning in my eyes, the people I pass, or the same old trees I've run by for years. 

As the miles go by, there is no fear, no anger, no joy, no happiness, no worries. Only the pure animal instinct to live, to be free, to move. To run. 

Only my deep, hungry gasps for air. Only the certainty of my ponytail bouncing against my neck. Only me and the wind. 

6 miles of therapy.