Runner
By houndtang
- 389 reads
The ache is still there, and the hard bump on my shinbone shows no sign of disappearing. I stretch my foot out and wince as a dagger of pain shoots up my leg. I lie back in my chair and stare up at the cracks in the ceiling. It’s past eight, but the sun is still shining through the windows.
I shut my eyes, and try to visualise the Heath; the slopes and winding paths, the ponds and shaded clearings, the great white Kenwood House with the wide green sweep below and its commanding views of the city beyond.
I feel my feet on the gravel path, I feel the gentle breeze against my face, I feel the sun warm against my neck. I let go of all my fears and insecurities. I’m alone and yet I feel complete.
I clatter across a little wooden bridge that fords a muddy ditch; tiny rabbits scatter from the path as I approach. A steep hill rises up before me and my chest tightens as I fight my way up.
Gasping, I reach the crest and as my stride lengthens I gaze out across the park and see the waning sun glinting wanly on the distant landmarks of the West End and Canary Wharf.
I cross the stone bridge across the bathing pond where a few hardy swimmers take their evening dip. I increase my pace, sprinting as I reach the edge of the Heath. I raise my arms in mock triumph, letting my momentum carry me as I pound out on to the pavement beyond.
I open my eyes. The room is gloomy now. I sigh softly and switch the television on. My leg still hurts.
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