"You must in all Airs follow the strength, spirit and disposition of the horse, and do nothing against nature; for art is but to set nature in order, and nothing else." – William Cavendish, 1st Duke of Newcastle

The morning runs were not going well. 

It would take me twenty minutes of pep talk to convince myself out the door. I was a skittish horse wildly bolting as I spooked from mailbox to mailbox. All day afterward I would be jittery and easily startled.

Today, I have a plan. 

I have been working on the rhythm with Peppa, and have found this made her slightly calmer and more willing to my aids. 

If trotting in a regular rhythm could calm the Pig Horse, then surely it could calm me.  

It is getting toward June so it isn’t as dark as when I first started running. Still much darker than I would like. 

I check myself in the mirror.

Ponytail. 

Headphones. 

Mace. 

“What are you so scared of?” I growl at my reflection. 

I’m looking different, like a two year old horse. Not yet formed but you can see a good structure under the wonky shape. 

I open my phone and start a metronome. 

Click.

Click.

Click.

I force myself to walk to the clicks down the driveway. No looking at the trees. Straight ahead. 

Click.

Click.

Click.

When I reach the end of the floodlights I turn my phone back on and turn up the metronome.

Click. Click. Click.

I start running. I keep my right leg in time with the clicks. 

I breathe with my left leg. 

A breeze blows through my hair.

My breathing is faster now, but I can control it. I stay with the click. 

The first hill where I usually have a minor meltdown approaches. I focus on swinging through my hips and continuing the stride. 

A meteor shoots through the sky.

I am clicking through the spot of woods that hosts small animals that scare me. 

Not today.

Click. Click. Click.

My breathing is easier now, my body has accepted this pace. 

Around mile two my core starts to feel tired but I continue.

The last stretch towards the apartment feels easy.

Maybe I should pause and turn it up a notch. 

I don’t.

If I stop I will have to notice my surroundings again. Then I might get stuck here. 

I can continue this pace for a hundred miles.

Then I am home. 

I open my phone. 

I stare at it.

All I needed was a little structure, and I could run a nine minute mile. 

This is unbelievable.

I smile at the girl in the mirror.