I wasn’t able to run while on the RV road trip between the driving and the killer tooth ache. I finally got in a nice long run in the park on Sunday and it was glorious. It feels so amazing that there are points in the run when time stops and I am absolutely convinced I could run forever. I don’t know that I’d call it euphoria, more like a vast, all encompassing contentment. Not being religious I think this serves as a mechanism for centering myself. There are times this feeling goes so deep I would need a few seconds to remember my name if asked. I’ve been tempted more than once to imbue a character with this and try to describe it in more detail, but honestly, I don’t know if I will. It’s like trying to define being in love. You are, or you aren’t. When I’m running, I just am. But then there are times when I am writing and that same endless plain spreads out before me and I, well, I just am. Maybe the two activities aren’t as different as I thought.
I write, I am.
I run, I am.
I cook…ah, who am I kidding, I cook, I burn my oven mitts. Some things I am not.