There’s something about races that create memories. I think they stick differently on the memory timeline than other memories. Perhaps it is the adrenaline rush that comes pre-race, the camaraderie of shared accomplishment afterwards or maybe it’s just the pain of pushing yourself past your limits that awakens that moment as one to be remembered.
I run so that I can switch my head off. If you will, running is my mediation, and it is cathartic both mentally and physically. This morning I ran 22 miles on my favorite FreeMotion treadmill. For three solid hours (okay, three hours and twenty-five seconds), I ran on a conveyor belt with nowhere