After waking to the dark damp of a stormy Wednesday dawn, I felt certain my plans to run that night were foiled. But the fickle weather of the coastal plains worked in my favor this time and by that afternoon, it was a beautiful, calm 50°F day.
Sweet.
I scurried home from work, threw on some clothes and dashed out the door, trying to beat the impending dark.
Rounding the second loop, I ran to the spooky dance beat of DeadMau5 (“Moar Ghosts ‘n’ Stuff”) and felt a joy so profound that when the full moon peaked up over the tree line, I knew a huge grin was cracking my face.
(It bears noting that smiling it not something I normally do while running, especially not in the first weeks back after a break. A permanent grimace of grit and spit is more like it.)
I rode the wave of joy from the end of the fourth mile into a fifth mile, surprising both me and my loudly protesting shins. I think for a moment I saw the glimmering portal to the fabled flow state in running. Defined by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, “Flow has been described as a state of optimal experience involving total absorption in a task at hand, and creation of a state of mind where optimal performance is capable of occurring.”
I can attest that flow state is an awesome mental place - having been there while hiking, doing yoga, even painting my bathroom – but never have I transcended during running. Something – breathing, muscles, joints, busy streets, conversation with a fellow runner – has always distracted me.
But I glimpsed it, and that's a start. I glimpsed it under the Old Moon which, as the first full moon of the new year, may portend good beginnings of all sorts.
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