Elements of Bliss: The Runners’ High

There’s a sensation that happens. Always as I near the end of my run.

When something takes over.

It visits upon me when I am running at my zenith. When I no longer cast glances at my watch wondering how much further? No longer shackled to the desire, the need really…


Indeed it is as if I have ceased caring about these things altogether. Not in a way that connotes apathy. Rather in a mien that denotes peace.

It is at this precise moment when no longer am I struggling. No longer am I fighting to keep going. The morning is hushed and my still-running legs carry me to eternity.


I can see myself running but I no longer feel it. My lungs still battered but no longer am I conscious of it. My feet still weary but no longer do I suffer the ground’s insistent pounding.

Indeed I have left the ground. I am air-borne.

And with that, the whole physical plane fades.

When at last my legs should slow, when at last my run should end, it is as if I am waking from the most beatific of dreams.

A tranquil smile gently dawns as I navigate my fuzzy state of incredulity. Vestiges of Nirvanic manna. I grasp in vain at the too sweet vagaries which had so recently enfolded me.

In this absence the world itself becomes more vivid. The ground once more alive beneath my feet. Sounds regain their resonance. The sun beats against me.

And the earth welcomes me home.



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