Not metaphorically — literally.

Mid-run, mid-hill, mid-existential crisis, you turn around and sprint in reverse like a lunatic dodging tree roots and bad decisions.

People think you’re injured, or insane.

Maybe both.

Running backwards is you flipping off the idea that success is always forward and uphill.

Sometimes, backwards is the way out of the loop.

It hurts in all the wrong places.

Quads light up like a bar fight.

Your calves curse your name.

Your sense of balance vanishes into thin mountain air.

It’s what happens when the usual direction fails to deliver the high.

When you turn and say, Screw it. I’ll run against the grain, even if I fall face-first into a bush.

Because that bush, at least, is real.