And we ran, Elle and I.
We had our headphones in, each of us dancing to a different song yet running in concurrence. We ran through the streets of a bustling city that was alive with cars and sounds and people. It made running more interesting because it presented a myriad of obstacles. Every intersection was a game. Do we wait for the safety of a flashing light of a figure outlined in perpetual motion or do we grit our teeth and dash for it? We always dashed for it. Elle would zigzag around light poles, trashcans, mailboxes—whatever presented itself on our course.
Elle and I ran step after step, block after block, mile after mile. My mind kept telling me to stop and my body cried for a break. I had to fight the two, make them coalesce, and tell myself to keep moving, keep waiting for that sensation.
“Can you keep up?” Elle asked.
I nodded yes but my mind wondered if my body really could. Running with Elle was always fun though. She was my best friend and running was something we both loved. Usually we’d talk for the first few miles, catching up on the other’s family or current romantic interest. Sometimes I’d sing along to my headphones. This always made Elle laugh and, in turn, made me smile. Running was something between us, a symbol of our friendship.
But that wasn’t the only reason why we ran. We ran because it was electric, even though that’s not how it was the first time I ran. No, first it was agonizing—my muscles groaned, my lungs gasped, and my body ached. But the pain always passed before it lasted, and I would feel like a bird flying for the first time.
“Come on, let’s run the stadium stairs,” Elle said, excitement beaming in her voice.
Before I could groan, my legs surged as energy rippled through my calves and thighs, to my ankles and feet. My breathing became automatic with repetition.
That’s when the sensation kicked in.
Intensely running for a prolonged period of time released endorphins into my brain and sent nerve impulses to my spinal cord, which then shot through the rest of my body with alarming alacrity. Cutting like a diamond light, it shined through my entirety.
It’s hard to describe.
I felt like the air, a dancing breeze free from responsibility and worry. It was like I had discovered ambrosia. The angels sang through my veins, blissful notes that traveled along the streams while my heart pounded the rhythm. It was unlike anything I had ever felt. In Latin, endorphin literally means “a morphine-like substance originating from within the body.” It gave me a sense of calm, of relief and a momentary stay against despair. It created analgesia, a life without pain in not only my body, but more importantly, in my mind.
All this running, that way and this, led me into thought. I stopped abruptly and asked myself, was I running from or to something?
“Hey! Are you going to catch up?” Elle yelled back, interrupting me from thought. I looked at her, the thought fading. What was it again? I couldn’t remember.
I smiled and ran toward her.
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