The air was crisp. A phenomenon you don't get in these parts often. So rare that the lungs of the runners ache when they accidentally press on the gas, which they can't help but do as the reprieve from the thick polluted water-air they are used to breathing in, is  momentarily lifted from their capillaries. Maybe just for this run. Sometimes, for two. 

If you're lucky to run on one of these days you'll likely feel what it's like to be fit. You can drop the pace a few clicks and you feel no discernible difference in effort. Instead you feel strong. Maybe a little more alive. 

A woman in a Camry gives you 7 inches of space on a suburban road and you're jolted back into reality. Yeah it's dark, but there's a whole road. This is why you run against traffic. You adjust, and press on. 

For years they've asked you about runner’s high. "Is it like being drunk?" Yes,  yes, that's it. I'm slurring and can't walk straight. Optimum running additives. No you twat. That's not it at all. 

It's like a short breath of cold crisp air. 

It's a mile that you run, faster than the rest. Strong. Controlled. 

It's the uplifted spirit after; a renewed sense of energy. 

It's the sloughing away of the troubles of a long day or the unwelcome morning anxiety you had hoped sleep would have eliminated. 

It's recognizing that you're lucky to feel this. That there are  those that can't run; or who won't, who don't know that they'd pay for this feeling if they only felt it. They pay alright. They pay. 

It's pushing forward to a pace you don't think you can hold, settling, and pushing again. 

It's unpacking life with a friend over miles, and being there for them to do the same. 

It's running farther than you thought possible. Or faster. Or both. 

It's thinking you can't run another step. Then running 6 more miles. 

It's racing with a friend and helping them achieve a goal. 

It's high-fiving a stranger coming from the opposite direction and watching them smile. 

It's watching my son float effortlessly around the track. Three months removed from a seemingly insurmountable injury. 

It's remembering and audibly reminding yourself and others that a mile is a mile. Regardless of pace. 

It's the time and sacrifice of minutes and hours chasing all of this, knowing that you'll have 20, "meh" runs for every moment like this, IF a that's the way I choose to look at it. If I decide to open my eyes and let the fog clear from my mind, it's understanding that one of the above can happen on any run. 

If I let it. 

#hugsandhi5s