The joys of running can’t be summed up in a phrase, and is certainly not a single feeling. For me it is different depending on the feeling, the day, the time, etc.

The return to nature run is finding a hidden lake in the middle of the city. Wildlife abounds and replaces human contact with nature. A deer, a rabbit, a bird, a squirrel all go about their business as I enter and exit their world.

The speed run brings an adrenaline rush as the wind whips past me. Blood rushes, breath quickens, my legs don’t ever want to stop. I whir past people with one goal in mind, to pass all others, even myself.

The finish line run is seeing a loving face cheering at the end of a long race. A smile brings the warmth and joy of recognition after a long journey. It is like returning home after a long absence, making the trip seems less of an obstacle and more of a voyage.

The winter morning run is running in the early morning hours and the crisp morning air. The solitude and quietness of the day is only shattered by the footfalls echoing. The frost on my gloves and the warmth of a shower afterwards is only improved with the morning meal.

The city run allows you to discover just how well oiled the machine we call civilization is. Everyone hustles and everyone bustles, I enjoy taking my time. For better or for worse, everything flows as the runner is like a leaf floating down a stream, silently with purpose along its course.

The exhausting run is arriving at the destination knowing that you will do it again, maybe not tomorrow, but maybe the next day.

The vacation run is finding the hidden parts of a city that are rarely seen. Exploring the unknown and discovering a hidden bounty of beauty and wonder.

The race to the finish run, leaves you breathless in the end, but with the smile. Left with a new PR or a virtual trinket, but mainly the knowledge of “Yes I Can!”

The run with a dog run is being pushed by a friend that can’t tell you when he is tired, but can tell when you are. His speed and endurance is like a shot of adrenaline, if only I had four legs.

The hill run can be painful either way; it is always up or down. I dread the climb more than the descent, but the bitter sweet view from the top is grandiose.

The return home run, I can finally see my destination down the street. The victory of the run is behind me, the cold splash of liquid in my throat ahead of me. My pace quickens; the joy of relaxation after a hard run.

The low altitude run fills me with endurance, running forever, legs and lungs pumping in unison. The rare feeling of a well oiled machine overcomes me. I am already at my destination?

No matter the run, no matter the time, I feel blessed to be able to get out and move. Whether my pace is fast or snail slow I revel in the feeling of the run. I soak up the atmosphere of the city and relax in the calmness of nature. The beauty of motion and the art of the atmosphere make each run a different and unique experience. In the end, the only thing better than this run is the next.