Veiw of the World

I slip my neon green running shoes on and, as I'm tying the laces, I gaze at the track. For some reason it looks different today than it did yesterday. Maybe its just the damp morning dew on the grass, but I’d say it looked fresher. Like I'm seeing it in a new light. As I follow the yellow lines with my eyes a sense of gratification rushes through me. I'm remembering the first time I stepped on that track, the first time the wind whipped my hair, and I'm remembering the first time I bought running shoes. I still remember them—black and purple.

I now see the other runners stretching and getting ready for a run. I should start too. I walk to the middle of the track and I start stretching my legs. They’re sore from yesterday. I could see the sun right behind Saint Mount Helens as my fellow runners and I line up. Three, I count in my head, two, one! And we’re off. Running down the track, the streetlamps on both sides of the track go speeding by as our feet hit the rubber road. The windows on the university seem to be the ones running, not us. The morning dew is disturbed as we reach the finish line, but then again, you would have to have already been used to racing to know this is the same starting line you just used because it looked even more different, like running changed our view of the world. So, maybe it did.