Running is a story that untells itself. A reductive art, like chipping a block of marble to free a fleet self you see within.

There's a fleet of selves to run through:

* The self who can't run without proper props: stylish clothes, gear, theories.

* The self you can't satisfy. Nothing is fast or far enough. No level of fitness fits.

* The self who says nothing matters, matter perishes.

Pare away at it. First, you try to run. Subtract "try to," which stands between "you" and "run." Just run. Steps become a stream.

Now you're getting near.

You will know you're there when the act's unconscious. Motions integrate. Just the earth and you passing over it. Heart and stride rhythms are in tune.

Doubter/critic selves meld into a greater chorus that encourages as it questions, accepts/makes peace as it goads and drives.

Every fiber glows. MR