We’re the ones that race the sun out of bed in the morning. That lace up and take on the icy cold, strap the time to our wrist and charge off to nowhere in an effort to beat it. We go for hours and often we go it alone, but for what?
The onlookers puzzle at the almost religious dedication as those in their lanes fix their eyes on the unseen prize. The somewhat undefinable goal that searching eyes can’t find. Yet once those arms begin to swing, your heart begins to pound and your legs find their rhythm cycling over concrete, roads, coast and trail, the undefinable goal becomes an unmistakable part of yourself.
It’s the combination of perfect silence, being free from the grind of the world – along with hearing every sound again as though for the first time. The birds whistle pierces the wind and orchestra of the outdoors reaches a new crescendo. Meanwhile every muscle in your body relearns what it is to be alive. As endorphins flow and your chest thumps you become completely human and totally physical, yet at the same time you’re not. You’re flying in a different realm. Soaring through a cinema reel of what ifs and maybes as the discipline of your body sets the soul free to wander.
Flesh switches to autopilot as your heart overrides the manual and rewrites the story. It explores the landscapes of nearby fields and impossible worlds, jumps from rooftop to rooftop, over country fences and through rising tides.
We compete with the possible. We plan, we strategise, we eat and we practice. Day in and day out we practice. Not content to let the victories and defeats of yesterday become our start and finish lines. We want more.
There’s more in it for us than the medal at the end of the race and the crowds wonder. Rather, the prize is the grind. The place where your body moves at the pace it was created to and your mind breaks free of everything inside it. It’s the pursuit that makes us who we are. The one’s that don’t stop. That don’t make sense. The one’s that break the rules. Master the pain. That rewrite the stories. Some call it a rebellion. For other’s it’s a creative space. For all of us, it’s the chase of something we can’t quite put our finger on and becoming better than we were yesterday. And it happens when we give up everything and simply commit to the moment.
Be it sunrise or sunset, when the laces tighten, the beats begin, and your feet hit the pavement, that’s the moment when victory wakes up, the world opens before you and nothing is impossible. That’s why we run.