Memories of Running
When I was younger, when running meant everything to me, there was a street I always loved to run down in the spring. Ohio Street in my hometown of Arlington, Virginia, was lined with azaleas, huge bushes that were taller than I was, with blossoms in every color. Some of the flowers were small, some were larger, some were single blooms, some were doubles. Even in an area where azaleas were fairly common, this was something special.
I don’t know why all the neighbors on that street decided to outdo each other with azaleas instead of daffodils or tulips or lush green lawns, but I was always glad they did. There was something magical about running down that stretch of road while the azaleas bloomed. Azaleas in bloom still make me want to lace up my running shoes and follow the road wherever it may take me.