To Run, or ...?

Multiple times weekly, I make myself feel nauseated. That's right; I run. Why? Well, there are multiple health benefits that I could describe in detail, but they are not the ultimate motivator -- not when it comes to me, and running. No. It's something else.

About the time that it begins to be necessary for me to suppress my gag reflex -- usually during the third mile -- I experience something sublime. Rivulets of electricity begin to dance along my skin in waves of flight hormones, and I begin to find myself mid-air. I'm running faster now. Yes, although my sneakers continue to deliver the sidewalk a corporal punishment, the rest of me is transcending this world, all care and stress delivered to the sublime ecstasy of purposeful living. I feel the graceful, powerful expansion and expulsion of my lungs and air. My heart sings with intense rhythmic clarity. My arms pumping, my legs stretching and reaching, my feet whisking through the air like arms on my Mom's electric beater -- I feel, I do, I am.

I am living in, and of, that exact moment, trembling on the lip dividing its birth and death. I will still exist when the moment is gone, but I will only experience that moment once. And what do I do with that moment? If I refuse to look at it, and know it, and experience it, am I not already dead?

What is more important than understanding life? What is more important than running? Is it not worth the price of nausea?