A runners morning.

The sun has not yet begun to rise, on this cold January morning. The full moon lights the path as the runner starts his journey. The sound of nothing fills the air and the dew settles on the road behind his feet. His legs are weak, but strong enough to take him on the course he has chosen. What brings him to this place of peaceful glide?

With each strike of the foot he sees his breath in front of him and the bitter wind turns his cheeks raw, there is calm feeling as his pace starts to rise. He has been running for over an hour and the world is still asleep. He is his own prisoner being held captive by the experience of the moment. To be in bed is not an option. This is his time. No distraction, only focus on the task at hand. Many have ran faster, and many have ran longer, but he knows no other life.. He is a runner.


I don't know... I think I'm going crazy!... Help.- See ya on the road, runron