Formerly, the term "runner's high" brought a grin to my face and a smirk to my heart as I imagined some skinny (the sometimes unhealthy-looking runner-skinny) guy smoking a joint just before heading out for a long run. Obviously, this most literal of interpretations most-likely offends runners and possibly offends your friendly neighborhood stoner as well.
Recently, I've discovered my mistake. Through my training, I've reached that oh-so-blessed state-of-mind (completely legally, of course). Bliss arrives with the first good sweat and lasts until you give in to your legs' cry for mercy. Each runner's high must presumably differ in ways I'm unsure. But, I assure you, this fairy tale land exists. I have visited.
My personal running land exists each day as a blank canvas. Awaiting my wandering mind, free from boundaries, reality, or pessimism. A neural amusement park unbounded by laws of physics and still untamed by my rookie status as "Runner." Each day promises new opportunity to explore and learn this land beyond. I look forward to knowing you better, peaceful state of mind.
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