I used to be afraid of running, of falling and hurting myself too far from home. I would always have this vision of being stuck in the ravine with a broken leg, not able to move, subjected to the long waiting period I’d have to endure before someone came to collect me. Then night would come, swallowing me whole, the intestines of the woods curling its way down the steep incline to me, holding me still while bats fly down my throat to choke the life out of my small body.