Jogging

Cool wind blows in my face, I continue to jog, moving my hips and arms in a way that makes me look professional. I breath in and out smoothly, keeping pace with myself, wearing my 'don't piss off the voices' shirt, and my blue yoga and track pants. The weather is cool, and I'm enjoying it, the sky is cloudy unfortunatley, no sunset for me to watch. Life isn't always lucky, we can't count on everything to go right, but cool weather is good for me. Fall has started, litterally, now that things are cooling down and leaves are turning. I expect peak by October, but I can never be too sure. Turing the corner, I enter a world of trees and houses, and cars parked at the side of the grey pavement, people making dinner in their kitchens, and slowly ending the day, in hopes of waking up tomorrow to a fresh pot of coffee. I lick my lips in attempt to keep them moist, but the wind dries them once more, and I'm forced to go on without any access to chapstick. My breathing grows heavy, and my lungs feel the pressure, but I don't slow down, only speed up, set toward my goal, trying to get home in enough time to watch my show.
So it goes on in the like, never stopping, except when waiting for a car, jogging in place at the time. I arrive four houses before my own, and bolt off, moving my arms faster, and my legs moving at there full extent. I arrive at home, putting my hands on my head to allow more air into my lungs, and then running inside to consume a welcoming glass of cold water.