“There is scarcely any passion without struggle.”
“The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”
-Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus
Simply, in the fleeting dusk of a weekend very full of running, I'm inclined to wonder on the why of it all, to question the genesis and potential for meaning inherent in any of it.
I'd say more, but the quotes above answer better than I can, and additional words could only detract.
There will be more later, of course.
UPDATE: Went running. Recovered like magic from a massive weekend, but held back to 7 miles. Felt perfect. Feel perfect. Banished, for a day, maybe, my "meaning of everything" anxieties.