May 7, 2024:
Panting happily, sweat dripping, warmth from the bones flowing.
In the old days I ran an hour before sunset. Down Dakota to Waco to Marston, around and around the upper field, ten laps, flat out the final two, two or perhaps two and a half miles, arriving home feeling like god.
Nowadays it's a brisk walk, a mile or so, but I still reach home buzzed.
Endorphin is a helluva drug.