After warming up for six kilometres on Niti Marg, Nehru Park shrouded in darkness, the road sparsely populated with runners beginning or warming up, I began my progression run.
Some days, the run simply comes to you. As if the run in itself is hugging you. Today was one of those magical days. Remember it. Feet flying. The tarmac racing back.
Oh, I am sure I looked like a floundering amateur, what with my right leg that kicks back askew, and my altogether ungainly gait, but cogito ergo sum.
I finished with deep satisfaction, a quiet drumbeat of exult in my body, a feeling that is not unique to me or runners, but a sense that is personal and yours alone. It spreads like sunshine, adding infinitely to the day ahead, and in these ways life comes together neatly.
Writing about Running 