Run. As everything collapsed around me, all I could do was run. The world was falling apart and yet the only sound that mattered was my footsteps steadily battering the pavement. Every day, every week I laced up my shoes and found solace in literally running from my problems, an escape that I enjoyed despite the crippling fatigue. I had no control over my situation elsewhere, but on the street it was a battle against the self, a struggle I took the greatest pleasure in.

It could never last though. In the end, my feet carried me back to the one place I didn’t want to be and my problems would always follow me home, unrelenting in their dogged pursuit to drag me down. I was trapped in a house that buckled and burned; all that remained was the fire that seared my lungs and the ash in my treads as I ran.


Author’s Words for Thought


“It is said that the cure for grief is motion. Recount an activity that has propelled you through sadness.” When I was going through a tough spot in my life, the only solace that I ever found came from running. I played soccer and used that as an excuse for conditioning (I would often run 5-7 miles a day), but I tried to run from my problems. Unfortunately they would follow me home.