Running, for me, is awful. Whenever I do it, I’m tired and sweaty and angry and taking it all out on my tiny girlfriend, which doesn’t really make me look like the best of people.
But…the last time I ran, I hit a moment.
It was toward the end of the run and I was badly flagging and all I wanted to do was stop and throw up under a bush and then sleep it all off under that same bush.
And then…there was a this moment where it was easy. I had hit a point where I could not only keep running, but I could go faster and farther than I ever had before. I had summoned up some deep reserve of strength that allowed me to tap into some mystical force. I felt like a goddamn superhero. I started to run past Emily, instead of trying to keep up with her. I burst ahead and it wasn’t hard. It felt natural.
In that single moment, I had tapped into something that I had never even been aware of. I was able to run, with minimal effort. It wasn’t exercise: It was fun. I joyfully threw myself into the run. I didn’t care about how much my legs hurt or how hard I was breathing. All I knew was that I was running and it was easy and I didn’t want to stop.
It was the most coordinated I had ever felt. Everything lined up just right.
I felt invulnerable.
And then it slowly drained away and I was mortal again and we slowed to a walk.
And then, later, I fell down some stairs.
But…for one, brief, moment, I was completely in tune with myself. I was able to reach my potential. And, for one brief moment, I was able to understand why people run on a regular basis.