The open road calls to my daughter. It quietly whispers to her soul as the breeze dances through her hair. She can sense a door opening in a ten-mile radius and heads straight for the road. Piles of leaves to jump in, who cares. Chalk to draw with, lame. The open road, magnificent. This is not the kind of call from a car on the open road. She detests cars. If you are a runner you know the call of which I speak.
Stepping out onto the open road a calm surrounds you. Time slows down. Sounds disappear into the distance. There is a calm that comes from wide open spaces.
of course that is until you start running.
*photo from jwblogisticsandtrucking.com