Ridin somein' candy coated crawlin' like a catapilla

I wonder what my running looks like to other people. I have a lot of friends, and none of them run. I hear about the occasional jog in the park, the once or twice around Lake Ella loop, but for the most part it's just me. I've been at it for a while now, since I moved back to Tallahassee and shacked up with that old man of mine. I remember our first jog, the route that started behind our old apartment, through the green way, into betton hills and back again. I remember feeling good one day, and then not so great the next. I was cycling pretty hard then, putting in 35 milers on the week ends with the local club. But this was different in that there were no cars around to hit me (which after a couple accidents tends to terrify you). Every body has good days and bad days, and I'm no exception. That's why I wonder what I look like to my friends when they see me running down the street. Holly once told me that her and Kevin caught a glimpse of us as they were finishing up ice cream on their couch. She said something about laughing at polarity of our situation, mike and me huffing and puffing, pounding pavement. If you saw me last night, around 8:00, rounding the bend on Monroe street, I can only imagine that you witnessed pure unadulterated joy. See, last night, I was super high on running. It felt like the road could go on forever and I could follow it any where. I felt light and fast as I passed people jogging around the lake. It was as if they weren't even moving, and I, I was flying. It's rare, most of the time my feet hurt, and my legs ache, my calves have the tendancy of feeling like their on fire. So it's not always easy, and it takes a ton of discipline. But if you see me and I'm running, there's a chance that it feels pretty freaking good. Better than ice cream.