One foot in front of the other

You lace up your shoes even when you don't want to go. You brace yourself, and you begin. You put one foot in front of the other. You breathe in and out. You keep your eyes open to your surroundings. You take in water and food to sustain yourself. You run through the pain because you know it won't last forever.

Sometimes others are with you; sometimes you're alone.

You put one foot in front of the other.

You look down the road, not straight down, because the energy of looking ahead will help move your body forward.

You take deep, even breaths.

You put one foot in front of the other.

You take a break every now and again, sometimes to walk, sometimes to stretch, sometimes to simply stop. You know you will start again; for now, you need a break.

Every so often, you look up and notice the beauty all around you - the yellow flowers that decorate the road, the butterflies that circle around you, the green leaves of the trees that shelter you from the sun, and you smile in gratitude.

You run through the pain, even when you think you can't...take...one...more...step.

You put one foot in front of the other.

You stop at the bottom of a large hill and choose to walk up it. Tomorrow, you'll sprint up it. Today, at this moment, you will walk.

Running...grieving...you put one foot in front of the other, and you breathe.