When I run, the rhythm of my feet causes a song to play in my mind. It is a steady and soothing melody that washes over me in a warm shower. It is played by the instruments of the colors of nature as they pass by me. As I continue to run, the song continues to play as it sweeps me away to my zone. I believe in the zone. The zone is an area of our brain that is where we go when we need a break. It is the most wonderful place that we can imagine. My zone is a lush grove of trees bordering a sparkling crystal blue lake. A warm breeze blows by and rustles the tree’s leaves. Ahead there is a clearing. A vast open field filled with wildflowers of every color. Reds, oranges, yellows, pinks, blues and purples, a rainbow of colors. And in the background, sung by the tall, blue, comforting mountains that border the lake, comes the music, the transport that brought me to this place. It flows, like the breeze, through everything, supporting it, making it possible, and building it into this haven. It is my solace from stress. It is my relief from overpowering emotions. I go there to think, and imagine. I go there to heal, and to grow. Without it, I would be nothing, a mere dot on the plain of existence. But in my zone, I am the ruler, the creator, and the sole occupant. Even though I am alone, I am not lonely. I have the whole zone to keep me company if I want.
And as I run along, and drift slowly into my zone, I lose track of my troubles, my worries, and my cares. Stress drains, like air hissing from a popped balloon. Homework, chores, and social activities no longer matter, and seem otherworldly. And I continue to run, plod, plod, plod, conducting the never-ending score of the zone. And I know as long as that rhythm is there, the zone will be also. This I believe.
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