Flying Without Wings

I love running. There's something to it that makes it so addictive--and I just can't pinpoint it. Maybe it's the fact that it sets my mind free from all that I care about; maybe it's the fact that it makes me feel weightless; maybe it's the fact that it creates a new world before me, a spinning new vortex of words, images, and feelings. I don't know.


But this I do know: the sense of freedom is all I need to keep going. There's no restraint, no one to tell you that you're failing, no one to tell you that you can't do this or that. Each footstep upon asphalt turns into so much more than a dull rhythm; it sparks memories of memories long lost in my mind to come alive, stirring the imagination once more to build upon and entangle these images in a dancing, swirling haze of mysteries. It's as if I'm weightless, physically and mentally. 


When I'm running, I'm free. I'm flying.