It’s 5:45. I’m preparing for my morning run. If I’m feeling really good… or bad I might go out up to three times in a day. I’m excited to get out this morning. I’ve missed running these past four days. Work and other responsibilities really got in the way. I don’t usually let that happen, but sometimes I run into emergencies that can’t be left until the last minute.
The air is pleasantly cool when I open the front door. I begin walking to the corner towards the main street. I live on a cul de sac, so my destination is a little ways. It’s convenient because it serves as my warm up. I am coming close to the park that marks the point where I start my jog. I am a fan of this park. It has a merry-go-round and several swings. My favorite attractions at playgrounds. They are also the least safe. That probably has something to do with my preferences. I was never one for safety. I’ve always hated anything that had to do with overprotectiveness. I have a tendency to do what I want and deal with the consequences as they come.
Once I reach the I pick up the pace. My muscles fall into the rhythm I’ve trained them to know. They have been ready to do this for a while. I know that I’ll be sore tomorrow. It’s been a little too long. My breathing and heart rate both increase. I pass the Menchies I may or may not stop by at the end of my run. If I don’t I’ll be proud of myself for resisting temptation. If I do I’ll have a delicious reward at the end of my run. I’m winning either way.
The sweat is falling freely now. I’ll be drenched all the way through within twenty minutes. Another twenty-five and the endorphins kick in. This is reason l kept running. Not solely, but mostly because I am addicted to this pleasurable blend of endogenous and morphine. I would live in this state, but I guess it wouldn’t be as special if it was a constant state.
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