Chasing Lightning with Luna

The summer before sophomore year, I started running every morning at 5 AM. Partly because Coach Martinez said if I wanted varsity, I'd better be ready to bleed for it. Mostly because I couldn't sleep anyway.

That's when I met the dog.

She appeared out of nowhere like she'd been waiting for me, this mangy golden retriever mix with one ear that refused to stand at attention. I called her Luna because she only showed up when the sky was still dark, like the moon was her alarm clock. Every morning, she'd trot alongside me, matching my pace like she'd been training for track since puppyhood.

"You're faster than half the team," I told her one morning, trying to catch my breath.

Luna just panted, like, bro, I'm not even trying.

The vitamins were my mom's idea. She'd started leaving those giant supplements on my breakfast plate, like they could fix everything that felt wrong about starting high school. "Growth," she'd say, setting down the glass of orange juice. "You're growing, Mason. You need fuel."

I'd swallow them dry, feeling like a fraud. Like everyone expected me to become someone I wasn't ready to be yet.

Then came the morning everything changed.

I'd pushed myself harder than usual, my lungs burning, Luna running beside me like she was my personal spirit animal. The sky was weirdly purple, clouds stacking up like nature was about to throw down. I should've turned back, but something in me snapped—something tired of being the cautious one, the one who always did what he was supposed to.

"Come on," I yelled, and Luna picked up speed like we were suddenly racing for our lives.

Then it hit—not a runner's high, but actual lightning, a crack of white-hot light that split the sky in half. The storm broke. Rain poured down like someone had dumped a lake on us.

I should've been terrified. Instead, I started laughing so hard I tripped. Luna jumped over me, barking at the thunder, like she was challenging the sky to a rematch.

"You're insane," I told her, soaked to the bone, shivering, feeling more alive than I had all summer.

Luna licked my face. And in that moment, rain plastering my hair to my skull, lightning flashing overhead like the world's most epic strobe light, I realized something: nobody actually knows what they're doing. Not my mom with her vitamins. Not Coach Martinez with his varsity threats. Not even me, running from ghosts that weren't even chasing me anymore.

I got up, knees muddy, and started walking home. Luna followed. By the time we reached my house, the storm had passed, leaving everything washed clean and weirdly possible.

"See you tomorrow," I said, but Luna just trotted off like she had other appointments.

The next day, I told Coach Martinez I'd run varsity or I wouldn't run at all. I started taking the vitamins because I wanted to, not because my mom left them out. And every morning at 5 AM, I ran toward whatever was coming next.

Some days, Luna was waiting. Some days, she wasn't. Either way, I kept moving.