I ran in a 5K on Saturday.
It was cold and rainy and miserable weather.
My family dropped me off and yelled "Good luck running, Mama!". And I choked back tears as I jumped out of the truck because yes, I am that kind of a person.
We lined up at the start, and the announcer said, "All competitive runners to the front"...and I moved to the front because I was feeling competitive and fast and maybe a little stupid.
On your marks, get set, go!
And I never looked back.
My brain was thinking I might have started too fast, but my body told my brain to just shut-up already, you've got this.
And after that, I don't remember thinking about anything except the run; the pure magic of it; the feeling of pure bliss. I get to be a runner and it is amazing and empowering and magnificent. Yeah, I get high when I run.
I crossed the finish line faster than I ever have before. Twenty-two minutes, forty-five seconds. I finished in 21st place.
And then I sprinted a couple miles away to my where my family was waiting for me as my oldest son played in his first soccer game. I made it just in time for the second half.
The race was almost completely forgotten; but the magical, super-power feelings of that run are still with me.