Joe Rooney

I seem to be running through treacle.

I feel every stride.

I begin to look for landmarks conscious of the distance still to go.

I am fighting my body and mind to keep going and then a hit of dopamine leaves me elated.

I could run forever.

If heaven is an eternal run I could die now.

Sometimes in the wind or rain you just fall in love with running.

The mist on your face, the solitary battle with life, the struggle and the reward.

Sometimes you've just got to whoop out loud to yourself or to the universe.

Woohoo!

I'm alive!

Two miles done, just over one to go.

The third mile broken up into parts.

One more stride and one more and one more and then it's over.

I'd been running barefoot for six months on the beach, sometimes in the twilight when I couldn't see my feet, trusting my sense of touch without a care.

One morning in the bright sunlight I saw a glint on the sand, something green.

I stopped to pick up a small piece of bottle glass and put it in my pocket.

A little further on I saw another, this time a triangle of transparent glass and further on another sand-worn semi-opaque piece.

I'd been unaware but now as I ran with head scanning the ground I would pick pieces up and put them in my pocket.

They always lay flat so if I did step on one they would just be pushed into the sand.