I miss running. I miss being able to whimsically run, spontaneously sprint or jog. Sometimes I run around the house, trying to fool my dogs, but I no longer can just up and run without probably pulling a muscle or putting a joint out of place.

When I was a kid, I was always running in the house, zigging and zagging from my room to my mom’s sewing porch, passing through the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, my dad’s den, my parents’ bedroom. My favorite commercial at that time was OJ Simpson running through an airport, leaping over benches of chairs.

I loved running so much that I often would leave my books at school in my locker so I could run home. I don’t remember the road, but I could be let off and would run through the forest, zigging and zagging and jumping over fallen trees and the small creek. It’s much more fun to run without anything in your hands. And it’s not like I would actually study or do homework when I got home.