She ran every day.
She felt everything because running made her feel.
She longed to
move to the middle of nowhere,
follow the white lines on country roads that pulled
out for days
and mountain ranges that screamed at her from all
angles and woods,
yes, woods,
her favorite place.
Roots, dirt, and trees.
Awareness, speed, and strength.
She never simply ran in the woods,
but with the woods and everything it offered.
She flowed in the veins of the trees,
chattered songs of birds
or the rustle of leaves.

She learned how to shed the girl who floated in an
abyss of her sister’s leftover expectations,
she learned who she was
that all she needed to do was run.
When she ran in the woods
she thought about nothing.
In the woods she glided over tree roots,
under the canopy of leaves.
Running was always a fever dream,
a way for her to unleash her anger and replace it
with moments of tranquility.
The woods were her home and running was her
soul.
Running expressed lessons in ways nobody
nor nothing else
could have shown her because
she understood the tongue in which the woods
spoke to her spirit.
It was what she was born to do.
She was running and running was her.
It gave her everything.
Most of all, it gave her who she was.
She ran every day.
She felt everything because running made her feel.
She longed to
be on the start line,
her spikes laced up tight with no room for mistakes,
the night air crisp
and the stands filled with people to watch the racers race – and fast at that,
yes – fast,
her favorite feeling.
Blurred fans track meet and stopwatches
Power pop and coordination.
She never simply ran in a race,
but made the race and made her presence known.
She accelerated past competitors,
glided across the track
and breathed in rhythm.
She learned to embrace
she learned she couldn’t be the prey,
that all she needed to do was race.
When she ran in a race
she forgot about everything.
On the track she celebrated her training,
under the fluorescent stadium lights.
Racing was always a fever dream,
a way to unleash her anger and replace it with moments of promise.
The track was her stage and running was her exclusive art.
Racing taught her lessons in ways nobody
nor anything else
could have shown her because
she understood the language of the race, which
only a predator could speak.
It was what she was born to do.
She was racing and racing was her.
It gave her everything.
Most of all, it gave her who she was.