Free Diaries of an Urban Panther by Amanda Arista

figured I’d start out slow, maybe trick myself into actually exercising a block or two. It was nothing fancy, but immediately I felt better. Less restless. Dare we say invigorated? Can’t say it was the weirdest moment in the past two weeks but it was up there in the top four.
    Three blocks down, I was definitely running; I could hear the pulsing beat in my heart, a steady thrum, thrum, thrum, in my ears. My muscles stretched and pulled as I turned a corner. With each breath I took, I felt loosened, focused. I could feel oxygen flooding my body, coaxing my muscles to relax and move, encouraging the continuing patter of my feet on pavement.
    For a brief moment, everything felt aligned and I felt alive. Maybe commercials constantly toting exercise and endorphin highs weren’t total bunk after all.
    And then I got the distinct smell of wet dog. When you hate dogs, you know the smell.
    I stopped. Where was the smell coming from? As I glanced over my shoulder, five big black dogs stood on the sidewalk behind me. Crap.
    Thanks to my recent encounter with a huge black animal, I froze. I could stay really still and hope a squirrel ran across the road to attract their attention, or I could make a run for it.
    I looked down at my tennis shoes. My left one was untied. Great. I was toast all over again.
    The leader, or at least the one in the front, barked a bark that shattered the silence of the street around us and started towards me.
    My instincts took over. I turned swiftly and ran. All about the flight response.
    Stride after stride, I didn’t think. I just ran. Taking in deep breaths and pumping my arms. Even over the blood racing through my ears, I could hear the howling and snarling behind me.
    They were keeping pace with me. I couldn’t outrun a pack of dogs. What was I thinking?
    I took a hard left down the main street into the neighborhood. There had to be people here somewhere. God Dammit, Chaz, the one time I need you, I cursed.
    Heavy panting crept behind me and teeth ripped into my jersey pants. My heel caught the beast in jaw and I heard the familiar pop of teeth on teeth and little whimper. Take that, Fido.
    The other four didn’t break formation. They took turns snapping at the edge of my shirt, the side of my pants. I swatted them away the best I could.
    I had the distinct feeling that they were enjoying this. Their barks were not of terror but of pure enjoyment.
    I pushed the thoughts from my head. They were dogs, stupid, flea-ridden mongrels who could probably smell the peanut butter on my hands from my lunch of ants on a log.
    Suddenly, a little girl rode into my path on her little pink bike with white streamers. At this speed, I couldn’t stop.
    Instinct took hold. I leapt from the sidewalk and flew over the girl, size ten out before me, the other tucked up underneath me like an Olympic hurdler.
    I didn’t feel myself hit the pavement. I barely felt the impact of the concrete beneath my feet. I was moving. And it felt good.
    The dog’s heavy breathing faded away and all I felt was the wind in my face and smell of the outside air. It called to me. Called me to go faster. Called me to let go and run faster.
    The greens of the grass blurred past, the cars on the street were streaks of reds and blues in my visions. I was the wind.
    And then I was almost a pancake.
    And then I saved a little boy’s life.
    And then I was Violet, Action girl, with a broken ankle.

 
    Chapter Seven
     
    M y leg bounced a mile a minute. I bit my nails. And it wasn’t the caffeine. I was only on my second mug that morning. I knew this feeling. I’d had it two days ago when I tried that exercise thing for the first time. Look how great that turned out.
    When I finally got around to patching up my ankle with the little first aid kit I kept in my kitchen, there was a scratch above my ankle and it was bruised and swollen. By the time I got ibuprofen in my system, I was walking up the stairs, and by the time I went to bed, it was