First mile down and you’re pumping 
through my veins like a drug. 
I am lifted. 
I am invincible. 
Sweat drips; and the faint burn 
makes itself at home in my lungs. 
The sun sets up ahead, 
and it's horizontal light warms me as I run. 
Clouds frame little pockets of blue sky above.

Problems shrink and I see everything
through a rose colored lens.  

You numb the pain. 
I run farther and enjoy you more  
with each passing year.  
Other athletes have retired,  
but I'm still running and kicking ass.  
Running is based on the premise of  
boundless, perpetual goals,  
and achievements that can only  
be had through investment and dedication. 
There are no shortcuts. 
I run against time. 
I run against myself. 
It's about the underdog; a sport where  
unwavering dedication trumps skill and talent.
  
The pain is brutal and relentless,  
and the only glory is between me and God. 
I question my mortality with every  
chest pain and heart palpitation, 
but I don't stop running. 
To do so would kill my spirit and breed mediocrity.  

If I die running don't worry; 
I was just on a run to Heaven 

 -Benjamin J. Carey, Author of Barefoot in November
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