Yesterday, I saw a little boy in my museum just having a blast running back and forth across the long hallways on the public floor. He just seemed so ecstatic about the act of running itself.
I sometimes forget that running should feel good.
In middle school, after the bus would let me out near my home, I sometimes would sprint the final few blocks till I reached my front door. After a long day of school and it's various stresses, it felt amazing to just pour all of my tiny imagined failures and frustrations into the simple act of running full out.
At other times, I would just be walking alone, and a pleasant memory would enter my brain, I would just have to run like a crazy person for a few minutes to let out the joy.
So this morning on my run around Stow Lake I concentrated on just enjoying the action of running. The thrill of moving fast, the energy I get from each breath, the power of getting all of my parts aligned into that natural motion of running. I didn't break any speed records or milestones, but it felt great.