I love running.
I really enjoy all sorts of exercise — that sensation of feeling pain, but a delicious pain, a pain that tells you you’re improving yourself. An ache that lets you know you’ve pushed yourself just a little bit further and made yourself just a little bit stronger.
But of all forms of exercise, running is one of the few I enjoy purely for joy of doing, not just for the pleasure of exercise. When you really get into a run, it feels like the whole world has disappeared. You hit your stride, and you’re flying; your body exists as nothing but a sheen of sweat and a delicious ache in your calves.
Even better than feeling your body fly though, is letting your mind soar. Running is one of the very few times when my mind is completely free, detached from my body, wandering in the airy cathedrals of unfettered thought. All my best ideas come, I think, while I’m running: All distractions disappear and I’m closest to the creature of pure thought and will that I long to become.
