Running, seriously keeps me in the moment, in the present, with thoughts dabbing tearfully at the past and plans my hand enjoys squashing like a giant bug swatter dealing with the future.
The act of running,
Is not running…
It’s training to run. 
Training is…
Humiliating, teaching one to be humble during a race as gastrointestinal issues make an unexpected appearance before hitting a porta potty. Once there, one recuperates, cursing the lack of tp and continues afterwards with the…
Training that becomes…
Humbling, when a cocky self assured self decides to run a ½ marathon without the training and ends up puking on the side of the running path. Once there, one recuperates cursing at not having the time to train and continues afterwards with the…
Training that inspires…
Aspirations which turn into goals and thus become accomplishments. Once there, one recuperates, cursing at not recognizing what the hard work was for and duh, reveling in the feely, good thingys not only felt but held close to the heart.
Well, those are my thoughts on running or random acts of self-gloating.