Why do I like running across my college campus late at night?: A thoughtful discussion.

To put it in its most basic, obvious terms, it’s probably for the physical adrenaline rush. It’s thrilling and exciting. Why is it, though?

Well, there’s the rush from the running itself, of course. The blood pounding through your veins. The exhilaration of speed, of pure energy, of exerting yourself and feeling your muscles respond as you run faster, faster, leaping down steps and over spots of ice.

There’s the contrast of temperatures—your heart rate jumps, your muscles warm up, the exertion creates heat making you sweat; and then the icy wind assaults your face, your eyes blur, you breathe in freezing oxygen that stabs you deep inside.

There’s the feeling that there’s no one but you in the world. There’s lighting on the path, so you can see where you’re going, but all the buildings are dim and what you can’t see doesn’t matter. Perhaps in the distance, you see a parking lot covered by a vague fog, but that’s really not important. You don’t hear anything, either, except your own breathing, the pounding of your feet and the splashing through puddles.

Then there’s the feeling of complete freedom that comes from that. You could do anything right now, and as long as it’s not in front of a dorm, no one would notice. You could dance around the Gata Fountain singing both parts of Moulin Rouge’s “Elephant Love Medley.” You could run to the top of the amphitheatre belting Wicked’s “Defying Gravity.” You could spin in circles until you fell dizzily to the ground, giggling sillily. You could splash through the mud puddles, as long as you got back to your room before your jeans froze to your legs. You could even crouch next to a tree and make squirrel calls to try to get them to come out and play with you, and still, no one would ever know.

And then there’s that feeling of illicitness, that daring to do something you weren’t allowed to do before. “It’s two in the morning! What the crap am I doing outside? Mom’s going to kill me—oh wait. Heh.” It’s allowed now, of course, but it still feels wrong, and you get another rush from that.

But then…then there’s the feeling when you stop running, and you’re still for a moment. You slow down to catch your breath, and you catch a glimpse of the stars and you forget to breathe again. You stand there staring at the sky, and you spin around in pure wonder, arms stretched out to the sides as if that could help you take it in better.

And somehow, when you’re headed back to your room half-asleep, you can have the most random and delirious and yet clearest conversations with God you’ve ever had.

“Hey, God! These stars are amazing, have I told you that recently?”

“Yes, you have. What are you doing awake?”

“Yeah, I know it’s three in the morning and it’s finals week. But I was hanging out with Emily in the JMC building and everything…Anyway, I thought I’d stop and chat with You.”

“I appreciate the thought. How are things going?”

“Well, like I said, it’s finals and everything…I’m a little nervous about that, but other things are all right.”

“Are they?”

“Well…there’s that one thing, but it’s been going on for ten months now…I don’t really expect it to get any better.”

“Dear one, you know you can always take it to Me. I can make your burden lighter.”

“I know, God…I just don’t always have time, and I don’t like to expend the energy to let myself process these emotions, so…”

“So you just let them build up and hurt more later? Don’t you trust Me enough to let Me help? Do you think I don’t understand? Do you think I don’t know rejection? Do you think I haven’t experienced loneliness?”

“I know You understand. You know I know You understand.”

“Then let Me guide you through it…not just when you ‘have time’ or have nothing better to do than to talk to Me, but every step of the way.”

“But I’m confused…You say You know how I feel, and I have to admit You’ve been through this before, having been human and all, but You at least knew what was going on, You had a plan. I don’t understand. I don’t know why this has to happen.”

“But you know I have a plan. Isn’t that enough for you? Do you really need to know what it is?”

“I guess not.”

“And I understand your feelings because I created those feelings. I hardwired into you the capacity for them. I arranged from the beginning what would set you off, what would make you feel lonely, hurt, depressed.”

“Why? Why is it worth it?”

“Because without rejection, you could never feel accepted. Without depression, you would never know joy. Without loneliness, you couldn’t have love.”

“Right. Right. I knew that. Why do I keep forgetting what you teach me?”

“I’ll explain as often as necessary. Call Me whenever you need it. I even wrote a book about it.”

“Right…Thanks. Anyway, I should really get to bed. Finals and all that.”

“Of course. Good night, My child.”

“’Night…Oh, by the way, God?”

“Hmm?”

“You know, it’s kind of dark and creepy around here at night…If it’s not too much trouble, could You , You know, protect me from rapists and axe murderers and all that?”

“Of course. Good night.”

So you stumble back to your room, half-asleep, wondering if you just imagined that, or if the Creator of the universe really cared enough to touch your heart and soul that way. Still in a dreamlike state, you shower, brush your teeth, debate combing your hair but rationalize that’s what straighteners are for in the morning. And you crash into bed, snuggling under your blankets, clutching your favorite pillow tight, and as you drift into unconsciousness, you think, “Good night, God.” And you feel the lightest touch on your heart as if He’s brushing your hair out of your face…

…And for the barest instant, you’re eight years old again, and you’re hearing your daddy get back from work. You should have been asleep hours ago, of course, but you never can really sleep until he says good night to you. And you know you’re supposed to be asleep, but you also know he’ll come if you call. So you do, and he comes into your room and you inhale the comforting scent of his jacket that’s your favorite. He tucks you in and sings to you. And as he leaves, he whispers, “I love you.” And you smile sleepily and whisper, “I love you more,” as you drift to sleep. And you live for those moments, because your daddy’s words make every horrible thing that happened that day okay.

And maybe that’s really why you stay up late now, because when you’re exhausted mentally from lack of sleep and physically from sprinting to your room, you can talk to God without the noise of the world, without the barrier of your mind going a million miles a minute and worrying about everything. And when He sings you to sleep, all is right with the world, and you can do anything if only He’ll be here to come back to every night.

It is, of course, impossible to say “I love You more” to God with a straight face, but I guess He tolerates it even though you both know it’s a lie.