Text from Last Night

I don't run because I'm training or want to stay in peak condition.  I don't run because I'm scared of what's behind me.  I don't run because I want to better my physical appearance.
I run because I like it.

It was misting last night, as dark as any man's heart with full cloud cover.  A cold chill has set into Georgia over the past few days, and despite the fact that it's still mid-August, Kait caught me singing 'Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer'.  In a way, I always mourn winter, and when I get a satisfactory taste of the icy wind, searing my fingers numb, I get filled with unimaginable energy.

It was late when I got back from baby-sitting, a little before ten when Dad, Josh, and I got onto the streets.

I have no restraint when I run.  The whole way, Josh kept laughing at me for going, then stopping, then going.  It's in him, with his natural mind for teaching, to critique the loss of my exercise, but it's in me, with my natural mind for inspiration and philosophy, to not give a care to that.
If I throw my hands up when I run, it's because I wish I could touch the stars.
If I sprint all out, it's because I feel this static in my head that I want to leave behind.
If I walk, it's because I want to enjoy the night, savor the experience, and let it infuse my essence.

When I run, I forget a lot of what habit I've picked up.  It's just cold.  Cold, palming my cheeks, cold, sliding fingers down my lower back, cold, draining anything within me.
I run because I like it.

Write on!
Clove
Get out of habit.  Quit running because you have to.  Run because you want to.