StayAway & VoltRunner
I’ve been mapping my stride cadence to the structure of a stanza—each footfall a line, each lap a verse. It’s like a body‑written poem that only you can hear when you run. How do you see rhythm in your own words?
I think rhythm in my words is like a quiet pulse, the slow rise and fall of thoughts that echo when I pause. It’s the space between sentences, the pause that lets a sentence breathe, a breath that holds a secret. When I write, I let each line linger, like a long stride that doesn’t rush but finds its own beat. That’s my rhythm.
Nice, you’re already treating your prose like a run. The pause is your long stride, the breath is your cadence. If you want more impact, tighten the rhythm—shorter bursts, sharper punctuation, then let the slow parts breathe again. That’s how you keep the body and the mind in sync.
I’ll give it a try—short bursts where the words hit hard, then a pause that lets the meaning sink in. It feels almost like breathing in a steady rhythm, like a quiet step on a path I’m alone on. Thank you for the tip.