a runner - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
I win so many races; when everyone else begins to quit I accelerate. In everyday life I'm all about the team and helping others, but on the track it's war. I compete to win and if I don't I train harder for next time. It's just the way I am. Competition isn't bad if you know how to handle it, how to use it as a positive motivator. After my energy is spent I can reawaken my inner angel and get to work doing things that really matter, taking all that fight I learnt on the track and applying it to making a difference the right way.
Running taught me about life, that every little thing is broken down into one step at a time. That's as easy and as hard as every task is. If you look ahead at how far the run is, maybe you'll never begin. If you just start running there's a great chance you'll finish. So don't over think it, love, just run.
Every race I ran there was never a question of stopping until the finishing line was crossed. I can't say I was good at pacing myself, that skill still eludes me, but I knew how to keep going even when my body told me there was no more in the tank. There is always a reserve if you're stubborn enough to demand it, and I am. Every finish was a sprint followed by bandy legs and collapse. I learnt as a runner the true meaning of "giving it your all." It means giving until you think you're spent and then finding more to give anyway. That kind of endurance is without a doubt the most valuable lesson I ever learnt.
Back in the city I ran over astroturf and the perfect surface of the stadium running track, even the cross country running was a sanitized version over the parkland like hill that the developers thought to steep to build on. Now all I have is this farmland, beautiful so long as you don't have to run over it. There are ruts, pot holes, rabbit warrens, stones - and all of them hidden in the partially grown meadow grass. A few months from now there will be flowers, wild ones, ones that perhaps when I am older I will have grown to love as I walk the labrador I am bound to get once I am over forty. But right now my legs are burning to run and run fast, burning to cover not metres but miles and every fourth step I twist my ankle fit to snap. And if it doesn't snap, I will, these muscles that have taken years to develop will be fat in a few short months and then I won't even want to run anymore. I'll be like the rest of the kids my age, junk food, computer games and out of breath to climb the stairs. Maybe I should just get that labrador now and start wearing J-crew...
It was an accident that I became a runner. The entire school was turfed out to run a race and mostly my friends wanted to walk. Half way up a long hill of stubby grass and soggy mud I just got bored and began to run. Getting back sooner seemed like a good idea. I recall crossing a small wooden bridge close to the school and the teacher yelling at me that I was in second place. After that I was on the running team. I guess it was the first positive label I ever got - "the girl who can run." So I never stopped. I just added swimming and cycling when I got the chance.
What? Now you don’t think he is. How did I get someone like that and what does he look like? Slow down, honey. I’ll tell you. One question at a time. Way back in my youth I was fit, really fit, an athlete who could run ten kilometers and win medals, trophies. It wasn’t that hard really, just putting one foot in front of the other until the finish line. Truthfully I enjoyed it. Whether it was a country road or a tarmac street the steps became miles and they passed in a wonderful, exhilarating blur. There were faces, people clapping, the refreshing wind. At the end if I wasn’t falling over from empty legs I never really felt like I’d given it my all. I competed hard and I always won my category. Not that it makes me a super runner, I bet a lot of girls could have done it, but most my age were too busy thinking about boys and make-up. They were normal, I was the loner freak - but a toned one. But enough of that, it feels like boasting about someone else, that’s how long ago it was. Perhaps I’m just throwing my ego a bone, it’s hard to keep that healthy at my age, hence all the mid-life crises .
Found in Are you awake yet? - first draft, authored by .
Patterson ran down the sidewalk, his feet hitting the concrete hard, sending shockwaves right up to his brain. His lungs heaved like the air was acidic and every part of him felt like it would break if he didn't stop. But Genevieve was in danger and she was his whole world. It was time to run like that's all his body knew how to do.
Carter jogged along the railings by the park, but that wasn't even nearly how fast he could run. In those thighs was enough power to be clean across the park in seconds should he choose. Every footfall was soft, every movement practised so often he could be perfection even on autopilot. From his shirt came blue wires going right up to his ears - music. That's what flowed in his veins. I swear if he were ever opened up it his heart would be pumping soul-tunes instead of blood.