The sharp, annoying buzz of the alarm clock went off. Jennifer sleepily rolled over and quieted the buzzer. Six o'clock on a Saturday morning, she thought, what a waste. Dangling her legs over the side of the bed, she felt the aching already. "Terrific," she mumbled, "a race today and I can't even move." As she stood up, she felt a surge of pain through one of her legs and like a wounded animal, she made her way to the window and lifted the shade. It was a typical day for running: rainy, cold and plain old depressing. Sighing, she turned and made her way to the bathroom. Flicking on the light, she saw the dreaded uniform waiting on the counter. Its tacky green and red coloring glowed in the light. Hastily she washed and changed, throwing her blond hair into a ponytail, securing it with the lucky scrunchy.

On her way to the kitchen, she passed her father, who asked "How's my favorite runner this morning?" She mumbled a "good morning" and quickly scurried by, too tired for a conversation. After eating her usual runner's breakfast of plain toast and dropped eggs, she headed to the car where her mother waited. As she opened the door, she felt the cool autumn air brush against her body. Glancing up she saw the sun beginning to show itself from behind the colorful trees. Looking down at her worn and muddy sneakers, she smiled and whispered to herself, "What a beautiful day to run." n