The Moment in Between

My morning run.
My morning run view…

There is a moment in between.  One foot leaves the ground and the other one hasn’t quite landed yet.  For a fraction of a second, I am floating.  Flying.

In that suspended space, there is nothing wrong.  Nothing hurts.  Gravity is gentle.  Kind.  It’s like freedom.  It’s like swimming.  Everything is good.  It’s right and perfect and lovely.

When I run fast, I somehow leave my skin and transform into a waterfall.  I see the way it bursts from the earth, cascading down the rocks, exploding with every impact into gemstones of liquid sunlight – sparkling and twinkling and shining.

When I run slowly, I am the constant lapping of the ocean waves on a quiet evening. The cadence of a steady restlessness all my own.

There was no checking the distance today.  No checking the time.  There was no pace.  No worries.  Today, I ran because I wanted to.  And I didn’t run to get to the end.  I wasn’t chasing a sense of triumph I might find upon completion.  At the end, I’m just as likely to cry as to laugh.

I ran because I wanted to find that moment in between.  That place.  That snapshot.  Over and over and over and over again; ten thousand times and just once more.

The moment in between.  One foot leaves the ground.  The other hasn’t quite landed yet.  I’m free.  That’s the moment, the feeling, the point…

That’s the thing about running that I love.

I found it.

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