Running nirvana

We probably owe our existence to endorphins. These chemicals screaming hot-icy through our bodies come around when we do benevolent things for ourselves. Running seems to invite them – as does other strenuous activity – but if the feel-good fairy dropped by every time we laced up a sneaker, there would be chaos, so they’re secretive in their ways. Endorphins are flirts: they entice us but they don’t make themselves too available.

When I return to running after taking a break, the endorphins sail my way. I don’t have to run hard or far to feel their effects. These days, my weekly long runs conclude with cravings for coffee, or odd protein-rich foods I don’t or wouldn’t eat, or avoid like the plague like sidewalk hotdogs (seriously). I haven’t IM’d with the dreamy chemicals in some time (and I won’t ingest them through hotdogs).

Tonight was an exception. I felt them. Speedwork tonight was 2000m x 4 with a 5 minute rest in between. All the running I did – to the meeting place, during practice and during the scenic route to my place – added up to about 16 km with the first eight requiring strenuous effort. The last seven were gentle. I concentrated on keeping good technique, the unusually choppy waves of the water, and how they distort the city lights that try to lay claim on them.

I had forgotten how endorphins make you feel wonderful until I got home. Contentedness and a feeling of peace too sweet to question accompany mundane activities like slicing tomatoes for a sandwich when you’re under the influence. My quads now feel sore, reminding me that endorphins encourage and delude, like a good coach or thesis advisor: "you can do it, you're almost there!"

Strenuous running is not the only way to invite peace into your life. I’m open to the hot sauce endorphins as modeled by these Vietnamese chili sauces, but for mind-altering spice capades that appear to freeze time as well as your face, you can’t beat an overindulgence of wasabi.