Morning Sprint

I slipped through the cracked front door and marched down the walkway until I reached the neighborhood running trail. After a whole day stationed indoors, my legs needed action. I picked a faded white chalk stripe on the asphalt as my official starting block. Hands on my knees, chest forward, ready. On the count of three, I broke into a full-speed sprint, pumping my yarn arms and dodging dry acorns along the curb. Ten rapid strides later, I skidded my boots across a flat gray stone that served as my finish line. It felt fantastic to hit top speed.