There is a hunger in the center of the chest

I read an article at RunnersWorld.com yesterday that evoked responses on what truly defines a "Runner's High". Many seem to agree, it's much different than any chemically induced high--not so intense, but a kind of mild full-body euphoria that seems to happen when all of your systems are in complete alignment. Your legs pedal along effortlessly, carried by the strength of your pumping heart and arms, floating on easy breath, that seems to lift right on up through your being. I think someone put it well when he said it's "when your physical and spiritual worlds align with your running body".

Generally I can't stand having my earphones in when I run. I like the feeling of carrying nothing, little as it may be. But now and then I just get the need to run with music. Today I hit the trails with my ipod set to the Wailin' Jennys and their album "40 Days". Their music always immediately wakes my senses--there are still songs I can't make it through w/out feeling this enourmous welling in my chest. It's like needing to laugh and cry and sing all at once. Add that to my body-in-motion, and I had the most incredible run today.

In recent months, I've noticed a similar emotional welling up during certain times--maybe sitting at coffee with Cory, or during a conversation with Mom or Dad--even on the descent down the hill to our little Alki bungalow--with the most amazing view of Puget Sound. It's an interesting sensation. It's mostly good, but there's this little inlet of sadness that comes along with it. It's not a weighted-down, to the depths of my core kind of sadness. I think it probably stems from the realization that "nothing gold can stay, Pony Boy". Time is fleeting. I want to make a god-honest attempt at living my minutes and hours. To make them important and meaningful.

"Whether we wake or we sleep,
Whether we carol or weep,
The Sun with his planets in chime,
Marketh the going of time."
~Edward Fitzgerald