Hallelujah

I couldn't find my Lungplus this morning. I had put it in that big backpack that I took with me to Skatås last weekend, then unpacked it and proceeded to completely forget where I put it.

Of course, now that I'm writing these lines, hours after my morning run, I know exactly where it is.

But there was a little moment of irritation right then, because there are so many things I want and have to do on my ”free” day, and wasting time looking for missing things is not one of them. My throat doesn't like the wintry conditions that have befallen Gothenburg the last few days and I wanted to spare it the minus degrees Celsius this morning.

Predictably, I didn't let the absence of breathing aids stop me from heading out in the cold. I took my mp3 player with me. As my legs slowly warmed up, the sun was slowly climbing the horizon and painting it in pastel colours. Jeff Buckley came on with Hallelujah. And I was out running, the cold's sting turning my cheeks red, and I was happy and thankful that I could, so soon after the intervals. My eyes might even have welled up. But don't tell anyone.

It is amazing, really, this almost religious experience that is the runner's high. You know the feeling? When spring is in the air, all the beautiful people shed their winter clothes and walk around in summer dresses and t-shirts and you just fall in love, even if it's not a specific person you're in love with but life itself?

The brain is a funny thing.