I Run To . . .

I run to forget.

I run to escape.

I run to process the anxiety.

I run for the off-chance I'll see an elf perched in a tree.

I run to combat the depression, a shot of endorphins to overwhelm the dark.

I run for the solace, away from the manufactured stimuli and artifice and societal pressure.

I run to listen to the footsteps on the earth, auditory proof that I am still here.

I run to imagine adventuring with hobbits and trolls and magical sprites. 

I run for the physical feedback—the stab of my hip, the throb of my back—to remind me that I am human.

I run to be humbled by the magnificence of the pale blue dot, the insignificance of my self, an organism of random happenstance.

I run to immerse myself in beauty, in awe.

I run to live.


On Joy Sandwich, I chatted with author and runner Andrew Smith on the joy of running.