Heat index: 100

That is why I put in my 3 miles at 8 a.m. It was already like a sauna out there.

Remarkably, the run went fine, and I actually feel better today having done it. I mean, the dull aches I had in my hips and knees from yesterday's brutal pounding have disappeared. Uh-oh. It's like I need the running to stay well oiled. Or something.

Does that make it an addiction?

Is there anyone out there who isn't addicted to something?

Can we find a new word for whatever it is that each and every one of us finds to distract ourselves from the pain that comes from being alive?

'Cuz I don't think it all has to be unhealthy, does it? Smokingdrinkingsexingdrugging to excess, beating up other people, cutting ourselves, starving ourselves, gorging ourselves, gambling . . . what else? These things are not good. Fun for a while--some of them--yes. But sometimes it's just whatever gets you through the night, as John Lennon so wisely put it.

But in the end, don't we want to get through more and better quality nights? Don't we simply want to have more fun and help others have more fun? Isn't that what it all comes down to after the essentials are taken care of? It's seeking whatever is the opposite of that pain . . . and what we have to come to terms with is the opposite of pain isn't numbness. Being numb is worse than pain; in fact, it's probably just a couple steps closer to death.

Let me be clear here: I have spent plenty, I mean plenty of nights getting by on all kinds of paths to numbness. I'm neither proud nor ashamed. In fact, I enjoyed the ride more times than not, because there's usually a kind of heightened awareness before it all goes numb. But there has to be a better way.

I'd rather FEEL. That way you open up to JOY as well as pain. Dammit.

But that seems to be what this here running's all about. Though I'm not sure I've hit that endorphin high yet. What the . . .?

I guess the joy's subtle at first.