Maybe it’s the Jeep with its top down, whipping thru the wind on the highway.
Maybe it’s the music playing…a combination of new and old. Of fast and imploring. Of slow and restrained.
Maybe it’s the caffeine from my first cup of coffee in a week starting to work its way thru my veins to my heart and brain.
Maybe it’s the race, that has been front and center in my brain for a month now, finally coming to fruition.
Maybe it’s the actual connection between Chicago and Madison. More than I-90, but where my past and present continue to intersect. The innocence (and obliviousness) of my seventeen year old freshman self on Madison’s campus, to a departing graduate four years later. Or the somewhat irregular path of preparing for this race that leads me to the hills around town and the comfort of nights at the Union Terrace, mingling with friends old and new.