GAS WORKS PARK

I could feel it in my legs: restless like my mind. They needed to run.

Once back from work, I swiftly changed outfits and dashed out of my apartment, chasing what remained of fleeting daylight; chasing solace.

Right foot hitting pavement, followed by the left, they found rhythm, and my legs glided in momentum.

I never considered myself a runner, nor would I consider myself one to this day. But I have learned to appreciate its ability to pacify a racing mind.

And so I ran. And I ran more. Faster. Farther.

I veered off my route and stumbled through dark trails to this illuminating view. The park was empty, likely attributed to the chilled air and night sky. I stood there alone, studying faint lights of rush hour traffic glimmer across Lake Union. My body emanated warmth from the preceding miles, carried by the velocity of my thoughts and emotions.

My mind quelled, and I started to see it. There’s no running away from it. I need to run with it.

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