What I like about running is how it returns me to basics. I become all breath, skeleton, muscles. I am a living creature moving against sun and wind. Everything else fades except motion and respiration. Many runners tell me they think on their runsm about bills to be paid, errands to run, clothes to wear. I don’t think. I feel relief from the overexcitement that plagues my brain on a daily basis. I may ponder the light on the waves or the color of the shoreline grasses. I may marvel at breathing through my solar plexus. I may worry about my left leg. More often, I merely listen to everything and bask in the simplicity of being alive. Running is good for me.
I recognize how I usually think about trifles. The amount of calories in a food. Paradox’s immature behavior. Why I always have crushes on men who have no romantic interest in me. Meanwhile, friends fight war and disease. Literally. Yesterday, I ran past a man in a wheelchair and I swear I picked up my pace. There is so much more to each day than the things we think are important. Each breath we take is gift enough.