The addiction

Went for a run this morning after week of sloth, no exercise whatsoever.
I'm not sure if I didn't exercise because the week was so stressful, or if the week was stressful because I didn't exercise. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that I woke up at 5:30 a.m. this Saturday morning, and was out in the dark 13 degree morning shuffling along.
Like all first runs after a lengthy layoff, this run was schizophrenic. My legs and knees felt stiff and slow in the beginning, but as I warmed up, they seemed to loosen up, and after a couple of miles, I felt just great.
It's as if a dark wool blanket was lifted off my mind, and my thoughts flowed freely, whereas just 20 minutes before they seemed to be mired in some kind of neurotic sludge.
A colleague told me that he believes that some runners are akin to drug addicts -- that in fact they are drug addicts because they need the endorphins and other natural mood enhancers that aerobic exercise can bring. It's certainly the case for me. So I need to run or bike or swim or do something to get my heart beating and blood flowing; that's OK. That's good.
What's bad is that all too often stress, worry, depression can overwhelm the feeling of wellness that I get from running.
That's when I have to go for a bike ride.