I want to tell you how good it feels when I run.

Conceive of a day so jovial, so convenient so unforgiving of complete happiness. It may be a reunion with family, the joy of playing with your dog in a bristling grass, absent a cloud. Or it could be just throwing rocks out across a bay at sunset. Whatever your pleasure, ill or good, pious or corrupt, you have something that makes you smile like a child. This is what I remember when I run.

It began yesterday, when I came home to see my parents, and exchange talk about everything. It was a torrential downpour for about 2 hours, and then it cleared up, so my idea of riding for a good weekend long ride began to seem more plausible. So I headed out, and about 20 or so miles into the ride, it began to sprinkle. The skies went dark, the leaves turned, and thunder barked. Then lightning, and then more rain. I continued to ride, laughing so hard I could barely keep my eyes open. I felt that day as if I could have ridden to Canada.

Then I went out last night with some good friends into the city, partied quite a bit and then slept in. After breakfast, and watching the final stage of le Tour, I went out for a run. What was going to be 5 recovery miles, turned into a tempo run. Six, that seventh mile somewhere, the hour mark at 8 miles, then to throw my iPod back into my mailbox, ( I wasn't needing it), 9 miles at the 7-Eleven, then 10 miles back from the Train Station. Tempo. No reason, just wanted to play XC in the city; What were once mud puddles, are vats of automotive goo in front of the auto garages. The large logs and bushes are replaced by steel beams and abandoned shopping carts. This is my concrete jungle.

This weekend has been filled with honest training, vivid celebration and unparaled productivity. And it has been happy.