Flying.
I love hearing my children talk about the way grass makes you itch, the peaceful sounds of bubbles of air exhaled underwater, the coolness of the shade, the crunchy sound of leaves beneath their feet, the exhilaration of riding a wave, the joy of movement, and even the slight crust of sea salt on their skin after a day at the beach… in my life, these experiences are absolute; they are the same now for my children as they were 30 years ago for me.
But, somewhere along the line I started to marginalize my running experience. I started multi-tasking while running. Really, it was a necessity. Life had become to complex to immerse myself in just one thing at a time. Not enough time. Like many things, I allocated more than just running to the one-hour block of time allocated for it. Like I said: necessity.
And, man, how I hated to miss those little things – the sights, the sounds, the smells – that once made running special to me. Running became just another tool by which to accomplish other things: plan my day, compose articles, beat stress, and on and on.
Then I saw my daughter fly.
In a blonde-hair blur of pink dress and fairy wings she flew past the jungle gym and then back again. I stopped writing that spring morning and watched. Totally immersed in the act, she launched herself from the table she carefully positioned below the rope and swung back and forth over and over again.
What are you doing, I asked. “Flying,” she said as if it were a trick question.
Breathing in the air, noticing the difference in the smell of fall leaves versus spring leaves, the smell of mud versus dirt, and the feeling of a stony path versus a pine-straw-padded trail, I ran down the path with my eyes closed. I focused on the feeling between strides when for a split second both my feet were off the ground with no visual cue as to when I would land. Between those steps, it felt like I was flying.
Now, I rarely think about anything else but the “feeling” of my body moving when running. It’s not about how I run but, how I “fly”. It’s easiest for me to get that feeling on the trail – whether running it or landing a steep drop on my mountain bike. For some, it might be clenching onto a rock ledge with their bare hands some 20 plus feet or more from the ground.
What’s it for you? What’s your biggest adrenaline rush? What’s the “runner’s high” mean to you?
