But now I can run. 

I run a loop. In the center is a patch of forest. The occasional house will attempt to breach its wooded walls, but it’s mystery remains. Alongside houses nestled into pockets of forest, but the heart still lies there. I continue along the winding roads. The trees are a mix between having bark and being stripped bare. Their drab brown contrasts the bright houses they surround. 

Eventually I get to my favorite part of my run. The entire way the trees have been blocking the sun, but now the light is free to shine. I start to gradually climb a small hill. I rise like the sun, slow and deliberate, and the sun in me starts to rise as well. The roads are cracked here. My feet jump around, trying to stay on the pavement. 

As the shadows start to creep back over me, I notice the house of an old friend of mine. I haven’t spoken to him since elementary school; it’s strange to think that he’s live so close. 

The cool air finally returns as I get to the big hill. Barely any sun is coming in now. For the first time on my run, there’s not a house in sight. It’s just me, in a battle against the hill. I look to my left. It’s an endless sea of woods, stretching as far as the eye can see. The funny thing is, each tree is still distinctly its own. They don’t fully blend together like snow or paper, each tree has its own twists and turns. Its branches are sprawling out from it, pouring like water. They rise from untrodden ground and stay there, upright, until they die. 

Pushing the hair out of my face I keep going, my legs finally starting to give up. The light finally pushes its way onto my face, I’m almost done. 

At the end, I decide to run a bit further. As I get to my house, all the momentum that was building up finally releases, and I’m left with just the sound of my breathing as I climb the stone steps.