dream runner.

I’m probably the least athletic, most out of shape person I know. My blog is called 15-minute mile because I’ve never been fast or agile; I’ve always been the asthmatic kid. But I used to have dreams where I was running.
I wasn’t being chased, or anything. I wasn’t fearful. But there was an overwhelming urge to run, and it was amazing how fast I went.
It was through the school and town. My friends would sometimes fly by as my legs propelled me forward. I could jump long and far without missing a stride. There was never a misstep; it was as if I knew exactly how the world was laid out before ever even seeing it. I was so fast. I never felt so exhilarated.
I never lost a breath. I never broke a sweat.
Running was as simple breathing. I felt free and beautiful and strong. I felt like it was what I was meant to do. It was so instinctual, almost primal. I’ll never forget the dream-sensation of my legs moving, each muscle snapping back and forth, fibers firing.

Perhaps if I think hard enough, I’ll dream this dream again.