High

Well, here follows the story of my past 24 hours or so. The last time before 7:00 am this morning when I ate anything was 1:00 pm yesterday. I spent six hours yesterday...well, not getting work done, pretty much is the only way to adequately write this. I was legitimately in bed between the hours of 2:00 am and 5:00 am, although I'm fairly certain I got no more than 30 minutes of sleep, if that, in that entire time.

So this morning, between 5:00 and 6:00 am, I was ridiculously productive. And then at 6:00, I went out for a run. It was the sort of thing I needed, it was the run where you run until you can't run anymore, and then you run some more because it hurts, because you need to feel the burning in your legs and your throat and your lungs so that the buzzing in your head calms down.

And at 6:20, it began to rain. It wasn't pouring, it wasn't perfect, but it was gorgeous. It was what I needed. The high point of this day for me came at 6:30 am, standing on the hill, recovering from a run, still panting, listening to 37 mm by AFI, in the rain, looking around me like I was seeing the world for the first time.

I seem to have these incredible morning runs about once a year, and while the near all-nighter is not per se the most pleasant of experiences, and I still can't move my neck without everything hurting, it's always worth it. No matter what. The breaths I took at the top of that hill were more sustaining than eight solid hours of sleep could possibly have been.

Maybe I'm going to crash in an hour, or in five, when crashing would be really bad, or at the end of the day. But that's okay. All that matters (hah, the irony of my using that phrase is impressive) right now is that I'm high on life, high on my run, high on sleep-deprivation. And that's good enough for me.