The Moment

I love that moment on a run when you realize all your thoughts dissolved into silence about a mile back.

Running in the morning, for me, means a 4:30 am wake up call. I quickly make coffee, drink coffee, make lunches, feed the animals, drink another cup of coffee, throw a load of laundry in the washer, read through emails, get dressed and head out the door by 5:30 am.

As I step out onto the street, however, I am quieted by the stillness of the morning. The houses are dark. No one else is awake. It is peaceful, and I am filled with a tranquility I know I won’t encounter again until my next run.

For the first part of the run, my brain works overtime. Step after step, I think about work, kids, little league schedules, picture day, household chores, and travel plans. I do odd mathematical calculations in my head, I wonder about my stride. Everything fires at once, creating a crazy consortium of ideas and tasks and notes.

As my run continues, these thoughts seemingly disappear. Both my mind and soul take a deep breath, and I drift into a very simplistic thought process; I remember why I love being a runner.

And about 8 ½ minutes later, I am conscious of the fact that I ran a mile without noticing anything about that mile.

I love that moment. It’s why I run.