Yesterday, I saw a little boy in my museum just having a blast running back and forth across the long hallways on the public floor. He just seemed so ecstatic about the act of running itself.
I sometimes forget that running should feel good.
In middle school, after the bus would let me out near my home, I sometimes would sprint the final few blocks till I reached my front door. After a long day of school and it's various stresses, it felt amazing to just pour all of my tiny imagined failures and frustrations into the simple act of running full out.