Make Me Hate You

Inhale. Three steps. Exhale. Three steps. Inhale. Three steps. Exhale. Three steps.

The familiar pattern was music to my ears, my sneakers hitting the paved and winding road that led down from the Wagner’s house and toward the center of Bridgechester. My arms moved in time at my sides, my breaths quick but comfortable, not labored even after three miles.

Running had always been my escape, my comfort, my answer to dealing with stress and my celebration when everything felt right and good. Whether I was in the deepest pit of my life, or standing on the highest mountain, and every day in-between, running was always there.

Constant. Reliable. Necessary.