Running - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
I run, feet kissing the land. Perhaps a little while ago I would have balked at idea of running so far and fast, now I relish the prospect. These feet were made to travel at speed and as light as the paws of a lioness. Breathing steady, heart strong - this girl was born to run.
She nodded in acknowledgement and followed his grueling pace without complaint. The warm humidity of the jungle made her feel sticky and suffocated. Her clothes and hair, slick with perspiration, clung to her skin. She swatted another pesky insect. Sweat rolled down her skin in thick, salty beads. She could feel her heart throbbing inside her chest. Her skin felt like it was roasting. She began bouncing slightly as she jogged, which wore her out quickly. She settled to stumbling along behind him as fast as she could. Azura was vaguely aware of a stinging in her leg. She was exhausted by noon. By then they had reached the stream. She went to her knees and filled her water bottle, trying to catch her breath. Her lungs felt like they would burst and her throat was so dry.
His feet pounded the tarmac with all the grace of a sack of wet concrete, the springing graceful steps of twenty miles earlier had long since disappeared. His rasping throat was as parched as a dead lizard in the desert sun. His head bobbed loosely from side to side with each footfall and his eyes felt heavy in their sockets,
She bolted down the garden path like an Olympic champion at the start gun, coins clutched tightly in her sweaty hand. She quickened her pace to an all out sprint as the music from the ice-cream tuck stopped. The slapping noise of her flip-flops resonated around the vandalised walls of the housing estate with a clanging echo.
He covered the uneven paving stones with a great lolloping gait that suggested his ankles were made of tightly coiled springs rather than the sinew and bone the rest of us have. Each one of his mighty strides were worth at least two of mine. With the slightest of effort he out ran the rest of the gang, barely breaking a sweat and not panting in the least, he leaned against the brick wall waiting for the rest to catch up, grinning.
And he ran, like the winter breeze colliding into inanimate objects and crashing waves hitting the shore line. Like eagles soaring across indigo skies and a herd of cheetahs racing through verdant meadows. His long, ash coloured locks whipped back and forth behind him like a fiery tale as he flung himself over sharp rocks and heavy tree trunks. He didn’t know where he was nor did he know where he was heading. He had no idea what time it was and he had no clue what day. All he knew was he had to keep running forward. Not stopping for anything.
Tears blind me and I turn, running as quickly as my long legs can carry me, bolting down the alley way like an Olympic champion at the start gun; quickening my pace to an all out sprint. The pounding noise of my tennis shoes resonating off the walls of the alley with a clanging echo that matched my heart throbbing inside my chest with the thick grief and fear I felt as I ran.
Sudden spurts of speed, freedom, old loved worn out running shoes, pounding dirt track, sweat, wind in hair, forest smells of bark, loam, pine needles, path damp with recent rain, time to think, therapeutic, rhythm, iPod tunes, 4km down, 4 to go, fresh crisp winter air, invigorating, steady breathing, dog running alongside.
Heart pounding, rasping throat, leaden feet, heavy legs, chill autumn air, unseasonably cold, every footfall shakes, jars, mud on expensive running shoes, mud splattered high end jogging gear, special belt for cell phone and keys, slight inclination, walk, panting, home, hot shower, coffee and doughnut.
She wheezes as her burning lungs gasp for air. Her legs feel numb and unsteady, painfully sore. Her throat feels dry, so uncomfortably dry. Clothes long blonde-brown hair clings to her form, no different that if she run through a rain-storm. This was her fifth time running around town looking for the citizens. Unable to go on, she stopped running gasping for air. No citizens, not anywhere in this small town, they weren’t even in their houses...