“In Praise of Racing the Sun”

I am not a big fan of running, nor have I ever been. In fact, my childhood has focused quite largely on avoiding the activity in favor of a quick yet ponderous walk. When the sun moves up, or down, our mountain, however, it is with Hermes’ winged sandals that I fly. Few thrill can possibly stand up to knowing that you have beat the sun, the single largest entity in our solar system, in a race.

Summer rises are especially sweet, and not simply because the air smells a combination of complete freshness and new baking, but I often have yet to sleep prior to those races, so the feel of midnight is still present in my blood. The figurative clash of sun and moon mixed with wind create a high that coffee could never hope to compare to.

Winter sets feel much akin to swimming in ice feed, a fact that makes you want to run all the more quickly so that you win without numb feet. The heat created from your pounding blood keeps you moving as well as the desire to win once again the in downhill chase. The trees burn orange around and over you, the golden light your running mate. You cannot let it win.