מילים חדשות · 3

When my family moved from Tel Aviv to Mitzpe Ramon three years ago, I was not happy. I was thirteen, and I didn't know anybody. There were no shopping centres and no cinemas, only the desert and the huge Ramon Crater at the edge of the town.

One morning my father asked me to go for a run with him. I didn't want to, but I was bored, so I said yes. After one kilometre I had to stop. My legs hurt and I couldn't breathe. My father laughed. "Tomorrow you'll run a little more, Noga," he said.

He was right. Slowly, I ran further every week. In summer we run at half past five in the morning, because later in the day it is too hot. Our dog, Shoko, always comes with us. On our way we sometimes see ibexes on the rocks. They look at us as if we are crazy.

Last year I joined a running group in the town. It has runners of all ages, from fourteen to seventy. They became my first real friends in Mitzpe Ramon.

Next month I am going to run my first ten-kilometre race. I don't know if I will be fast, but I know I will finish. And when I look at the desert now, I don't see an empty place any more. I see my home.

When my family moved from Tel Aviv to Mitzpe Ramon three years ago, I was not happy. I was thirteen, and I didn't know anybody. There were no shopping centres and no cinemas, only the desert and the huge Ramon Crater at the edge of the town.

One morning my father asked me to go for a run with him. I didn't want to, but I was bored, so I said yes. After one kilometre I had to stop. My legs hurt and I couldn't breathe. My father laughed. "Tomorrow you'll run a little more, Noga," he said.

He was right. Slowly, I ran further every week. In summer we run at half past five in the morning, because later in the day it is too hot. Our dog, Shoko, always comes with us. On our way we sometimes see ibexes on the rocks. They look at us as if we are crazy.

Last year I joined a running group in the town. It has runners of all ages, from fourteen to seventy. They became my first real friends in Mitzpe Ramon.

Next month I am going to run my first ten-kilometre race. I don't know if I will be fast, but I know I will finish. And when I look at the desert now, I don't see an empty place any more. I see my home.

When my family moved from Tel Aviv to Mitzpe Ramon three years ago, I was not happy. I was thirteen, and I didn't know anybody. There were no shopping centres and no cinemas, only the desert and the huge Ramon Crater at the edge of the town.

One morning my father asked me to go for a run with him. I didn't want to, but I was bored, so I said yes. After one kilometre I had to stop. My legs hurt and I couldn't breathe. My father laughed. "Tomorrow you'll run a little more, Noga," he said.

He was right. Slowly, I ran further every week. In summer we run at half past five in the morning, because later in the day it is too hot. Our dog, Shoko, always comes with us. On our way we sometimes see ibexes on the rocks. They look at us as if we are crazy.

Last year I joined a running group in the town. It has runners of all ages, from fourteen to seventy. They became my first real friends in Mitzpe Ramon.

Next month I am going to run my first ten-kilometre race. I don't know if I will be fast, but I know I will finish. And when I look at the desert now, I don't see an empty place any more. I see my home.