“Not Running”

I could run almost before I could walk. I don’t remember not running. It’s as much a part of me as the skin that holds me in. We would race, play tag or hide and seek. It was fun. I called it fun. But then it got dark outside. 
The air is fresh and crisp. It feels good against my hot cheeks. My lungs drink it in like water, because I’m running again. I always run.

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