Mountains rushed past and I wondered to whom or what they were running to. I wondered whether they would ever tire from their strides, whether they would tire from fleeing. I looked towards the trees that weaved between them - like a toddler running circles - and I could hear a child's laughter in between the breeze. As I stared back at the window, not through it but at the glass, I knew that perhaps I, myself, would never tire of running. The feeling of leaving yet running full speed, with a confidence only you legs can take, with a momentum only your arms truly feel, I knew that I to will one day be running with mountains and trees. I hope I never tire.