The Pure Joy I Get When Running

An Exploration of the Unfiltered Happiness in Every Stride

Welcome, fellow runners and fitness enthusiasts after a long period of not posting. There's something profoundly magical about the moment my feet leave the pavement and the world around me transforms into a rhythm of breath and movement. Running isn't about breaking records or chasing medals. It's about discovering a version of myself that emerges when I commit to putting one foot in front of the other, again and again, in the most authentic form of human propulsion.

Why I Run

I discovered something fundamental about running when I first ventured into understanding how different cultures approach movement. I learned that some indigenous communities don't race. They run as part of their culture, their celebration, their connection to the land. Their approach to running speaks to something deeper within all of us, a primal joy that exists beyond competition or performance metrics.

Running offers me a gateway into this ancestral pleasure. Whether I'm navigating the streets of my city on a crisp autumn morning or jogging through local parks in my community, the experience taps into something that's been wired into human physiology for thousands of years. My ancestors ran to hunt, to survive, to explore. Today, I run to feel alive.

The Physical Symphony

When I run, my body orchestrates an incredible symphony of biological responses. My cardiovascular system strengthens with each kilometre I cover. My heart, that remarkable muscle, becomes more efficient at pumping oxygen-rich blood throughout my body. Over time, consistent running has reduced my resting heart rate and improved my overall aerobic capacity significantly.

The endorphins I release during running aren't mythical. They're real neurochemical responses that create genuine feelings of wellbeing. But beyond these famous "runner's high" chemicals, running triggers the release of dopamine, serotonin, and other neurotransmitters that enhance my mood and mental clarity. This isn't marketing speak. This is my physiology responding as it's designed to respond.

My muscles adapt and strengthen too. The quadriceps, hamstrings, glutes, and calves develop resilience and power. My core strengthens. My bones become denser as they respond to the impact and stress of running. I've learned through my own experience and research that running increases bone density and helps prevent conditions like osteoporosis later in life.

Mental Clarity and Emotional Freedom

I describe my running practice as a form of moving meditation. When I'm running, my mind often enters a state where repetitive thoughts naturally fade into the background. This isn't escapism. This is presence in its truest form.

I've come to recognise that movement plays a vital role in processing emotions and thoughts. Modern psychology confirms what I've experienced firsthand. Aerobic exercise like running directly impacts the hippocampus, the brain region responsible for memory and learning. Running has literally reshaped my brain in positive ways that I can feel and observe.

For me, running has become a space where difficult decisions clarify themselves. Where anxieties lose their grip. Where creativity flourishes. The rhythm of my footfalls becomes a backdrop against which my mind can work through problems, process emotions, and find solutions that seemed elusive at my desk.

Running in My Community

Here's something worth talking about openly. In my community, and in many other communities too, some people may give me a funny stare when I am running. Others may say things like I am chasing air or make other comments that question why I'm out there moving through the streets. These reactions exist, and I've learned to acknowledge them without letting them diminish what I'm experiencing.

The nice thing about it all, though, is the joy it brings me as the one running. That internal sensation of strength, capability, and freedom belongs entirely to me. It's not dependent on external validation or understanding from others. When I'm moving through my neighbourhood, feeling my body respond, feeling my lungs expand, feeling the genuine pleasure of motion, I'm accessing something authentic and personal.

I've learned that claiming space for my own health and joy matters. I'm normalising physical activity as something that belongs to everyone, including myself. When I run in my community, I'm making a quiet statement about my right to move, to be present, and to pursue my own wellbeing.

Building My Running Practice

I started my running practice without expensive equipment or perfect conditions. I simply required showing up and beginning. Running shoes mattered more than most other gear, so I invested in proper footwear that suited my gait and running style. A good pair of running trainers cost me between R 2 600 and R3 000, which felt like a genuine investment in my comfort and injury prevention.

Beyond trainers, I needed minimal kit. Comfortable clothing that allowed freedom of movement, appropriate socks designed for running rather than casual wear, and water for hydration. That genuinely became my foundation.

I began with a comfortable pace. This felt counterintuitive in a culture obsessed with speed and intensity, but I quickly learned that running too quickly at the beginning set me up for burnout and injury. Most of my runs now happen at a conversational pace where I could speak in short sentences without gasping for breath. This builds aerobic fitness and resilience in my body without overwhelming my system.

I structured my initial runs by alternating between running and walking intervals. I started by running for 90 seconds, then walking for 90 seconds, repeating this cycle for 20 to 30 minutes. Over weeks and months, I gradually extended my running intervals and reduced my walking intervals. This approach helped me transition from a sedentary lifestyle to becoming a confident runner.

The Social Dimension

I've found that running doesn't need to be solitary, though it can be profoundly enjoyable alone. I discovered that running clubs existed in my community, from casual neighbourhood groups to formally organised clubs with structured training programmes. These communities offer me accountability, motivation, shared experience, and genuine friendship.

I've learned the importance of community in my training philosophy. I don't run alone anymore. I train within a group, drawing strength from collective effort whilst maintaining my individual goals. This model works beautifully for my recreational running too.

Group runs create accountability for me. When I know others are expecting me at 07:00 on Saturday morning, I'm more likely to show up even when motivation wavers. Beyond accountability, group runs create camaraderie for me. I've met people from different backgrounds, professions, and life experiences, united by the simple love of running.

Listening to My Body

As my running practice has developed, I've learned to distinguish between normal discomfort and pain. The burning sensation in my legs during intense effort differs from sharp, shooting pain that suggests injury. One is normal. The other warrants my attention.

I've embraced the principle of gradually increasing my running volume to prevent overuse injuries. I follow the guideline that I shouldn't increase my total weekly running distance by more than 10 percent week on week. This conservative approach allows my body to adapt safely to increasing demands.

I've discovered that cross-training complements my running beautifully. Swimming, cycling, or strength training on non-running days builds my fitness, prevents overuse injuries, and maintains my enthusiasm for my practice. Running, whilst wonderful, involves repetitive impact. Varying my movement patterns keeps my body healthy and engaged.

The Seasons of My Running

My running practice shifts across seasons and across my life. In winter, running becomes a practice of determination and resilience for me. The cold air sharpens my senses. Shorter daylight hours mean more evening or early morning runs, creating a sense of adventure. In summer, longer days extend my possibilities. Early morning runs catch the sunrise. Evening runs happen under lengthening twilight.

Injuries, life circumstances, age, and changing interests all influence my running. I've noticed that my volume and intensity have shifted across different decades of my life. A time when I covered more distance weekly has given way to a period where I find contentment in fewer kilometres. This isn't decline for me. This is evolution. The joy remains constant even as its expression changes.

Why This Matters to Me

In a world of constant digital connectivity, environmental concerns, and questions about how to live meaningful lives, running offers me something genuine. It's accessible to me regardless of my income or resources. It requires no subscription, no app membership, no membership fee. I step outside and run.

Running connects me to my body in immediate, undeniable ways. I can't run mindlessly whilst scrolling through my phone. I feel my breathing. I sense my heartbeat. I experience the ground beneath my feet. This embodied presence becomes increasingly rare and increasingly valuable in my daily life.

The pure joy of running exists for me in the doing, not in the destination. It exists in the 6 kilometres on a Tuesday morning when nothing special happens except that I showed up and moved. It exists in the conversation with my running partner. It exists in discovering a new route through my neighbourhood and noticing details I'd never seen before.

I run in my community. I run when people give me that funny stare. I run when others question what I'm doing. I run for the sensation of my body working beautifully. I run for the mental clarity. I run for the joy.

Because ultimately, running offers me something authentic. Not a body transformed in eight weeks. Not a medal on my wall. Not external validation. It offers me the genuine, authentic, repeatable experience of feeling fully alive, fully present, and fully myself.

That joy belongs to me. I claim it with every stride.