She crawls out of bed, walks to the window, and looks outside. The fog rolled in last night. A smile spreads across her face. She laces up her shoes, pulls on a sweatshirt, and ties her hair back.
The anticipation of release, of letting go, builds and pushes her out the door. She walks a bit to let her muscles warm up. Quickening her pace she moves into a rhythm.
At first her lungs burn from the cool air. She can see her breath. The route that she chooses takes her down to the bay. The air smells of seaweed and salt. Gravel crunches under her feet as sweat trickles down her back and forehead. The sensation of overwhelming calmness floods over her, through her, around her. She craves it, like a drug. The “runners high”.