 You've got to be a little bit crazy to get dressed, go outside, and just start running. There's nothing chasing you, no specific destination you're rushing towards. You're just running, outside, in the heat, covered in sweat, gasping for breath, your body demanding a break, yet something within you pushes one foot in front of the other, a persistence that carries you along, a momentum and a movement that you find yourself swept up in equal parts ecstasy and agony. And then you realize that this isn't just about running, this is about living, and joining the movement for love and justice, beautiful at the feet that bring the good news of peace. Is this crazy? Perhaps, but I don't want to live any other way.