The damp morning air made me want to return to my down comforter in bed, but I continued to lace up my running shoes. I pulled my blonde hair back behind my neck in a knotted mess, and began stretching out my calves on the brick edges of the porch. A small ant scurried past and into some leaves behind a potted mum. The sharp air had already started turning the leaves their bright palates of color; winter seemed to be waiting in angst, blowing its arctic winds across the exposed bumpy flesh on my arms and legs.
My empty stomach rumbled as I finished stretching out my hamstrings. I got up and ran out of the cul-de-sac, starting my routine route around the neighborhood; I was going to add a small mile and a half section through the community park today. I felt groggy, the pincushion bags under my eyes lingering as I began to jog and took off down my street. I turned right around the next corner onto Elm Lane and sped up to go down the straightaway it provided.
A small dog began barking loudly, but the sound soon faded as I put more distance between myself and the dog. After fifteen minutes or so I saw the park up ahead, and began to get excited about the new part of my route through the woods. Light was just beginning to hit the tops of the trees. It was six fifteen on my pink and gray Timex sports watch.
A small dog began barking loudly, but the sound soon faded as I put more distance between myself and the dog. After fifteen minutes or so I saw the park up ahead, and began to get excited about the new part of my route through the woods. Light was just beginning to hit the tops of the trees. It was six fifteen on my pink and gray Timex sports watch.
The park consisted of a small jungle gym and a bench next the wooded trail. The path was well worn and led a rather narrow rutted path through the forest. There were some rusted iron benches every once in a while along the path, and round wooden logs dug into the trail for support.
After only a few minutes into the forest, I twisted my injury prone left ankle. With a gasp, I tried to run through the pain, and did a limp-run for about twenty paces before I had to sit and take a look at it. I rotated it around a few times with painful popping until the pain began to subside. I got up and walked a ways before I started into my running stride again.
I approached the dense part of the woods and noticed a rotting wooden bench on the side of the trail covered in a pile of leaves and brown pine needles. I got closer and was surprised to see someone sleeping under the debris. It was a small man with a long thin gray beard and matted hair pulled back to the nape of his neck. He had a rugged cowboy hat over his eyes, and oil and dirt stained boots. The soles were worn thin on the outsides, and the toes of the once smooth leather was scratched and torn up into a teased scuff. With closer inspection I thought he looked quite dead. His skin was as white as a sheet and he was as still as a rock. Concerned, I stopped running and went over to rouse him.
At first touch, he was cold, but I noticed his chest rolling in even waves of respiration. The pulse in his wrist was weak, but steady, and I felt him begin to come to. I stepped back, and made to continue my run. I was gone before I thought he’d noticed my presence; I was already fifty strides farther down the trail, which happened to have taken me out of his view beyond a stand of trees. I watched him a moment or two before I thought he was okay and went on my way. I felt my fear and curiosity pulsing through my arms, and my feet sped up to take me out of the woods and back into suburbia. 
1 comment:
I think I remember reading something like this when you were in h.s. that you wrote. It is descriptive and I could picture what you were talking about.
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