I run because it is magic..

I rarely slept the night before Christmas. It wasn't the presents under the tree that excited me. It was the idea that some kind of magic enabled a portly man in a red suit to squeeze down the chimney.

Magic is what turned me on. The Easter bunny was real. The tooth fairy floated in and out of my room while I was asleep leaving me a few bucks for coming one tooth closer to adulthood.

But, the magic eventually began to fade. It started small. It turns out the tooth fairy was usually mom. The colorful eggs hidden all over the yard were typically my Dad's handiwork.

Then, I suffered the coup de grace. Santa, the most magical of all was not real. My house of cards came tumbling down. There is no such thing as magic....or so I thought.

Years later, I found myself gasping for breath. Spent and neck deep in pain, the finish line was ahead of me. I let out a war cry and ran faster than I thought I ever could.

A few months later, I was flying around a quarter mile oval watching the clock as it crept closer to 5:00. I was mere steps away from doing something that was beyond my comprehension. The clock read 4:57. Surely, something otherworldly was at work.

Two decades later, I was deep in the valley of despair. 45 miles of self flagellation had me threadbare and wasted. A brief respite, a few deep breaths, and some Mountain Dew served as a magical potion that somehow enabled me to run the last 5 and notch an astonishing, surreal 50 miles.

Magic is real. Running draws magical things out of you. It catalyzes magic.

Running has taken me places that defy imagination. It has pushed me into other dimensions I can't quite explain. It waves its magic wand on me every time I head out the door.

I run because it is magic.