Your legs hurt, your breath's heavy, your undies start to ride up, one bra's strap is out of place, but you keep going, like you know where you're going. Cars and people pass by, some stare, but you keep going. Sweat runs down your back, home keys rattle. Your neighbour's trees are over the fence and need a trim. They block the sidewalk, forcing you into walking in the middle of the street, which makes you mad, but you keep going. You look for stairs, everyhere. You like them, specially the long ones with small steps. The beaten tracks are filled with people you simply don't feel like chatting with, so you keep off. And keep walking. Don't stop. The music player stops. Battery's dead. You've been up and down for 30 minutes, but you need more. You climb the streets, uphill, downhill. The buildings protect you from the sun but not from curious eyes. You have no idea where you're going, but you keep going as long as people think you know where you're going. Occasionaly you come across other walkers or "lost-alike" runners. You don't care, you're alone.
