To run is to commit.

To run is to suffer. To suffer through the agony of covering the same distance you covered yesterday in order to make it a little bit farther today. To suffer through the pain that strikes your knees, fatigues your thighs, empties your lungs. To suffer through the monotony of your breath, of your stride, of that same playlist.

To run is to transform. To transform your perception of running as a form of fitness into a source of meditation. To transform your mindset which once saw running as an obligation into one that not only necessitates, but hungers for a long run. To transform your weaknesses into strengths and exhaustion into energy.

To run is to persist. To persist through the days when the ground swallows your every step. To persist through the cold seasons whose icy air pierces your lungs and takes hold of your muscles. To persist through the heavy summers whose heat is inescapable and suffocating, blanketing you with an unwarranted lethargy. To run is to persist and stubbornly refuse to be beat.

To run is to celebrate. To celebrate that extra bit of distance you covered today. To celebrate the kindness of your knees, the engine in your legs, and the capacity of your lungs. To celebrate the symphony of your breath with the harmony of your stride to the beat of the music you listen to on every run.

To run is to feel. To feel the intoxicating effects of adrenaline pulse through your veins. To feel your body becoming a machine. To feel certain that the finish line is the one obstacle you can always overcome. To feel the the physics of reciprocation as the ground offers just as much force upward as you are exerting downward. To feel your strength building so deeply within you that physical pain is no longer a feeling at all. But rather to feel the intricacies of your body providing you with a buoyancy that catapults you that extra mile, that extra ten, that extra twenty.

To run is to fly.