Proof

This weekend was a taper weekend, so I went up to Rancho on Saturday morning to get in a small run (which means, these days, between 5-7 miles...not so long ago, that would in no way seem small) at 7 am.

I've grown up near Rancho San Antonio, so the trails are familiar to me, though I had a new experience this weekend during the downhill portion of the Upper Wildcat trail. Traveling up the back way to Upper Wildcat, via Rogue Valley, entails shuffling along on a high altitude climb for what seems like five miles (though it's probably less than two). It's an amazingly challenging climb - back and forth, zigging and zagging to the peak, at which point you are rewarded with one of the most spectacular views of the Bay Area in the early morning. (I suspect, the view was put there so people won't complain about doing all that work for nothing.)

After stretching your glutes and refilling your lungs (which have shrivelled up to tiny sacs of pain) at the peak, you embark on the terrific downhill maze of Upper Wildcat. However, at a regular downhill rate, the scenery changes so quickly in comparison to the initial climb, that you feel like you should stop to take pictures. But for me, it literally became a blur when I found myself being propelled forward at a fantastic rate, thanks to the combined forces of gravity and Shot Blocks. I didn't hold back, and in fact just relaxed while my feet pattered down the trail, faster and faster, and my body fell forward as my legs kicked up behind me. My body started moving in precise harmony, and I watched as the dappled light through the trees started to flicker as I sailed through the woods.
Oddly enough, my legs didn't tire, and my lungs were comfortably airy (due to the quick descent), and after about five full minutes at this speed, I truly felt like I was flying. In fact, the feeling was so supreme, I started laughing as I realized that I had reached that inexplicable sensation some people call "the runner's high".

Granted, I had just expended an intense amount of effort to get to the top of that hill, and now I was going downhill so fast I didn't have a chance to relish the descent...but it didn't seem to matter as I felt so amazingly charged. The rest of the run was somewhat robotic in that my body was working in perfect sync on its own accord for a solid two miles.

And in fact, by the time I finished the run, I felt like I wanted to do it all over again, just to get that supreme rush. Yes, I wanted to climb that wretched hill all over again, that's how great it felt!

The mind-boggling moral to this anecdote is that I have tried to enjoy running for years, thinking that I could only stand it in little bouts. But now, after training for miles on end, I've discovered that I like the long hard runs. Why? Perhaps because I didn't think I'd ever get to that state, that runner's high. But yes, it's true, it exists. I know that now. And like they say, you really can't explain it, you just have to experience it.