I ran for a lot of reasons. To keep in shape. To win races. To stay out of trouble.Really? I didn't know a lot of kids growing up who wanted to stay out of trouble.
And sometimes I ran just for the heck of it. Today I followed the path by the river. It had enough inclines and twists to make any cross-country runner happy.You've got a nice voice...
My feet pounded the ground with a steady thud, recording my progress. My muscles burned in that half pain and half pleasure kind of way that let me know that my body was working like it was supposed to. A well trained biological mechanism. Sweat soaked my shirt even though the wind had kicked up. The warmth of the day changed into a strange cloying humidity that raised the short hairs on the back of my neck.And now I'm getting a little bored with the running stuff. Maybe a little less of that.
The last leg of the run, I think it was maybe at mile nine or ten, stretched out before me. Most of it was hidden in the trees. My car waited somewhere beyond them to take me home to a silent house. I didn’t pick up my pace.Your voice gets a little less confident when we reach what I assume is a murder scene, but I would turn the page. There's something promising in the flavor of this.
Just past the dead pine with the stubborn cones still hanging from its branches, I jerked out of my running daze. I stopped, not believing what I saw. A woman lay curled on the ground. My stumbling steps took me closer. Blonde hair hid her face so that I couldn’t tell her age. She wore a pair of dark jeans and my attention fixed on the ugly color of red staining her arms and most of her shirt.