It enveloped me as suddenly and completely as wading into the surf, that out-of body experience known as runner’s high. The day was Sunday, under a cloudless spring sky, along the scenic roads and soft trails between Branford and Stony Creek. Many of my gentle readers know that some months ago, I cut way back on mileage and changed my form to something akin to racewalking, a technique I found very hard to learn. The purpose was to reduce the effects of impact on a body that has enjoyed its fair share of long races.
At about the 6 mile mark of a leisurely 8.5 mile run, it just hit me. No warning, no chance to prepare, just a here you go my friend, see how this feels. The world came into sharper focus, and seemed to accelerate toward me. Parachutists use the expression “ground rush” to describe the way the earth comes up to meet you as your altitude diminishes. I have experienced ground rush, and this runner’s high was a vertical ground rush. All of the colors: earth, sky, and trees, became more saturated, more intense, more distinct from one another. Textures and forms stood in sharp contrast. My achy hip set itself to the side, still there, but for that time not part of the here and now. The high lasted three miles, until I approached the center of town, when the images blurred, the colors faded, and the achy hip came back. But no matter: a fantastic run concluded with the greatest feeling a runner can have.
The cause of runner’s high is said to be the flooding of the brain with endorphins, those feel-good chemicals the body produces to induce pleasure. Over the years, like all you readers, I have had the high many times, always to my great delight. But this was the best ever. To run, to breathe free, to immerse totally in the moment, simply to enjoy the passage of time: these I believe are life’s greatest gifts.
Bob,
Beautiful, and yet, sadly, I suspect it is inexplicable to the non-runner. I wish you many more such highs in the future.