Tuesday evening, Steve was sitting on the couch after getting home from work, eating dinner, and watching the news on TV. His leftover turkey had cooled off, but Steve barely noticed. He was too busy talking back to the TV.

Today it was the vote in Congress on the tax bill that set Steve off. “You can’t do that!” he exclaimed, shaking his fork at the screen. A forgotten slice of breast meat bounced off the anchor’s face. “Do you think we’re all stupid?”

After the commercial break, a blond, blow-dried “lifestyle anchor” appeared on the screen to report that more than a third of American adults were overweight. “That’s awful,” Steve muttered, gnawing on a drumstick. He burped and then looked down at his own waistline, which reminded him that he was part of this particular problem. Taxes, war, unemployment—Steve couldn’t solve those problems, but he could do something about his weight.

The lithe young thing on the TV had a solution for his situation—exercise. She listed a number of workout alternatives. To Steve, running looked like an inexpensive, easy, and convenient way to get some exercise compared with paying for a gym membership or finding a group for sports like tennis or basketball. He decided to give it a try.

Saturday, Steve went to the local Walmart and bought a cheap pair of training shoes. He went home, grabbed a T-shirt and an old pair of shorts, and went out for a run. That first day, Steve barely made it to the end of the block before he had to stop. “This sucks!” he thought, hunched over with his hands on his knees and breathing heavily. “Running’s a lot harder than it looks.” When he got his breath back, Steve trudged on for a little longer, but by the time 15 minutes had passed he was done for the day.

Steve was sore the next day, so he plopped down on the couch to watch the Sunday morning political-interview shows instead of going for a run. It wasn’t very restful. Shows were either pointlessly argumentative (“Why is it that the only job sector in our national economy that is fully employed is Village Idiot?”) or just plain stupid (“We can cut taxes and increase services! It’s just a matter of increasing efficiency. We need to learn from corporate America.”). He channel-

surfed for over an hour before giving up in frustration. “Might as well go for another run,” he muttered to himself. “It can’t be any worse than this!” Steve’s progress was sporadic. He would run one day, then skip a day or two before he went out again. But he never quite stopped. There was always something in the paper, online, or on TV to make him angry, and he would put on his shorts and shoes and go for a run to work out his frustrations.

After a few months Steve realized that, without consciously deciding to, he had started running almost every day. He looked forward to his daily run, and if he had to miss a day, the next day’s run came as a relief. His extra weight was gone and for the first time in years he felt good about his appearance. He had more energy, and he had more endurance when his friends asked him to play softball, go bike riding, or go for a hike.

Most importantly, running helped Steve relax from the stress created by the barrage of human foolishness that continually bombarded him. Wherever Steve went, whether to the local coffee shop for a drink, to the garage for an oil change, or to the mall for a pair of pants, there was always a radio playing or a TV running, spewing out streams of bad news and foolish opinions. Running was always work, but there were moments while he ran where Steve managed to forget the nagging annoyances of the world.

Steve valued those peaceful moments, so he started looking for more ways to work running into his life. He signed up for his first race, a 5K in his hometown, and surprised himself by finishing third in his age group and taking home a trophy. After the race Steve was trying to enter his results into his exercise log on his smartphone, but something was keeping the app from responding. Then an ad for diet potato chips popped up, with a smiling model stuffing his face covering the screen. The only thing that kept Steve from smashing his phone against the wall was that he needed it to start planning his next run.

Going to races helped Steve measure his progress. He wasn’t the fastest person out there, but he wasn’t the slowest person either. His results improved, and that helped encourage Steve to do more running and make more progress. And when he was in the middle of a race, running as hard as he could, the effort and concentration drove any other thoughts out of his head.

Soon 5Ks weren’t enough. Steve began lusting after longer distances. Inevitably, that led to Steve signing up for his first marathon, Marine Corps in Washington, DC. Training for a marathon took up a lot of time, but the goal kept him focused on his running, and that helped him ignore the waves of information clamoring for his attention.

In November, Steve finished the Marine Corps Marathon in just under four hours. Afterward, he went out for sushi with some friends to celebrate. When Steve picked up the menu, it was covered with little tridents to indicate how endangered each fish was. The information didn’t help him enjoy the meal. Steve wanted to do

the right thing, but he also wanted to eat without being nagged. He transferred his guilt to annoyance at the restaurant—if it was so irresponsible to eat the bluefin tuna, then why did they serve it? He needed a distraction from his irritation, so he let his friends talk him into signing up for another marathon in the spring.

After a few more big-city races, Steve tried a marathon in a smaller city, and he found that he liked those races even more. The events were more about the running and less about selling the marathon experience to runners. There weren’t as many people cheering him on, but the races weren’t as expensive and the courses weren’t overcrowded. Soon he was signing up for obscure marathons and running races on quiet roads and trails with maybe a few hundred others there to keep him company.

Steve was at one of those small marathons, in South Hero, Vermont, when he met an older runner who told him about even longer races, called ultramarathons. More miles? That sounded good to Steve. That conversation led to Steve spending Mother’s Day in Ipswich, Massachusetts, running a three-mile loop in the woods as many times as he could in eight hours. Steve took it easy, but he still managed to complete 39 miles.

By this point Steve’s whole life revolved around his running. He would go to work, come home, run, eat, and go to sleep. On weekends he would get up early and use the extra time to go on longer runs lasting for eight to 10 hours. He had read an article pointing out that not one Wall Street financier was charged with a crime after the mortgage scandals and economic meltdown, and he would just shrug and tack an extra five miles onto his daily run.

Steve tried to explain his running to one soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend. “Running calms me. When I’m running I can escape for a little while from all the stress and suffering that surrounds me. I can get lost in the drone of footsteps and forget for a little while how much pain there is out there.” She told him that she felt forgotten when he was out running, too, and when he didn’t argue with that, she left.

It wasn’t about running fast anymore. Steve found it much more enjoyable to relax and see how far he could run. Steve often felt a little anxious when he wasn’t running, but his daily run took care of that.

Steve signed up for a 50-mile race in Vermont in the fall. He finished, though he had to struggle through muddy trails created by a downpour the day of the race. When he tried his first 100-mile race, Steve ran only 70 miles before he couldn’t go any farther and dropped out. That just reinforced his resolve. He tried the same race again a year later, and this time he finished in just under 24 hours and earned a silver belt buckle. After that, whenever Steve found himself in a political discussion, he’d usually rest one hand on the buckle and run his thumb over the top edge with a faraway look in his eyes until it was over.

The tipping point came after a shorter race, the HAT Run 50K in Maryland. That close to Washington, it was inevitable that Steve would run into people dis-

cussing politics after the race. They were arguing whether health insurance should cover injuries that kept people from running but didn’t affect them otherwise. Considering why he started running, Steve was going to argue the point, but his legs felt fine and it was a beautiful day, so he decided he would avoid the debate and run back to his hotel instead. After all, it was only 20 miles away.

When Steve got back to the hotel, he showered and changed. The hotel restaurant served sushi, so he decided to order a pizza instead. After eating, Steve tried to relax on the bed in his room and watch a movie. He surfed through the channels, but all the movies he found were interrupted by ads every few minutes, and it seemed like every other ad featured a disturbing clip from that channel’s eleven o’clock news. Each ad made Steve a little more restless, so he turned off the TV and picked up a book. That didn’t keep his attention, either. He thought about heading down to the hotel bar to see if there was anyone to talk to, but he couldn’t face the chance of another political discussion.

Finally, at about ten o’clock, Steve decided he might as well do what he usually did when he felt restless. He changed back into his running clothes, grabbed a bottle of water, and went out for a run. Steve figured he would run five or 10 miles and then go back to the hotel and sleep.

Almost immediately after he started, Steve felt better. Ten miles flew by. Steve returned to the hotel, but instead of going up to his room, he decided to keep going until he felt tired. He ended up running until dawn, finally stopping when he needed to get back into the room to shower, pack, and check out.

The eight-hour drive home crawled by. Steve kept shifting restlessly in his seat. He usually passed the time on these trips by listening to music on the radio, but there were so many interruptions for ads and news programs that he gave up and turned it off. When he stopped to eat, he thought about pulling his running shoes out of the trunk and going for a short jog, but that seemed silly. Instead, he got back in the car and resumed driving.

Steve found himself driving faster and faster. He would make a conscious effort to slow down, but whenever he glanced at the speedometer, he’d see that his speed had crept up again. He could hardly wait for the drive to be over.

At last Steve pulled into his driveway. He unpacked his car and started the laundry. He still felt edgy, so he decided that a run would be just the thing to work out the kinks after the long drive. Steve took off and ran his standard 26-mile loop. When he returned home, he had a bite to eat. Even though it was evening and Steve had done more running than usual, he still wasn’t winding down. Steve decided that since he felt good he might as well put in a few more miles. He figured another 10 miles would do it, but when he finished 10 he still wasn’t ready to stop so he went out for another 10 miles, and another after that.

After he finished the third 10-mile loop, Steve figured that he could quit for the day. By this point, he had been awake, either running or driving, for almost two entire days. While this wasn’t unprecedented for Steve, it was usually something he did only in the course of an ultramarathon. But enough was enough. Steve showered and went to bed.

He lay down and waited to doze off. Instead, the restless feeling began building up again. Lying in bed felt pointless. Steve didn’t really feel the need for rest. He felt like he needed to be moving, that he had to get away. Steve struggled with this for a couple of hours, tossing and turning. Then he gave in. He slipped out of bed, put his running clothes back on, and headed out the door.

Steve ran through the night. He made it back home after dawn on Monday morning, just in time to shower, dress, and head to work. By the time he drove to the office, he was already feeling the need to get out and run again.

The first thing on his calendar was a weekly staff meeting. Steve managed to sit through half of that meeting before he got up, told the others he wasn’t feeling well, and left for the day. On the way out, he stopped by his desk and took out the spare running shoes and shorts he always stored there. When he got to his car, he changed into his running gear and took off.

Steve ran until noon. He stopped for a short while for a snack, and then he ran for the rest of the day. Somewhere in the middle of the afternoon, he began to worry a little. Physically, he felt fine in spite of all the running—a little tired, but comfortably so, the way he would feel in the middle of a 50-mile race. But he knew he should be more tired. He’d been running for most of three days! This level of endurance was the sort of thing he had dreamed of, but it was a leap in fitness that was outside of his experience and more than a little weird.

At the end of the day Steve put his concerns aside and ran home instead of getting his car from the lot at work. He grabbed a bite to eat and, almost automatically, reached for the remote to turn on the TV and watch the news.

The next thing he knew, he was back out on the street, running. Steve stumbled for a step and then fell back into his smooth running stride while he tried to figure out what had happened. Apparently, he had gone into some sort of fugue state between the time he turned on the news and the time he came to his senses. Steve checked his pockets. He found he had taken his keys, some cash, his phone, and his credit card before he left the house. His legs felt great. He didn’t understand what was going on, but it seemed like it wasn’t doing any harm, so he just kept going. Soon running calmed him down, the way it always did.

At midnight, Steve circled back home. Again he tried to sleep, but just like the night before, his mind kept spinning while his body flopped back and forth, looking for a comfortable position. His compulsive running made him uneasy, but when he tried to get his mind off the running, his thoughts were tangled and

confused. He was angry at the events in the media and how people didn’t see the obvious solutions to the problems, disgusted at the stupidity of the people who elected the crooks and believed the obvious lies, frustrated that there wasn’t any way to get people in power to listen, guilty that he wasn’t doing everything he could to help whatever he could, afraid of the consequences if the problems weren’t solved, sad that people were suffering unnecessarily . . . until the pressure to get up and run away from his thoughts pushed him out of bed and back on the road.

Steve struggled for days. Every time he stopped running—to eat, try to sleep, or just sit and talk with someone—the restlessness began building until the compulsion to run again took over. His doctor gave him some sleeping pills, but they didn’t help. They just made him dangerously fuzzy headed when he gave up trying to sleep and went back to running, so he stopped taking them.

Finally Steve accepted what had happened. He put together a small knapsack of essentials, quit his job, told some friends his plans, and then struck out with the intention of running until the compulsion went away. It didn’t seem like he had much choice in the matter. He just hoped the compulsion would run its course before his money ran out. He tried not to think about what would happen if he got hurt and couldn’t run.

Steve quickly settled into his new routine. He ran at a steady pace that averaged out to about 10 minutes per mile. At times, he would develop a blister or minor aches and pains, but he was able to walk those off. Somehow, he managed to avoid any major injuries.

Every morning, Steve stopped to eat breakfast and pick his next destination. Then he’d settle into a groove and spend the day running in a half-focused, meditative state. Some days he would stop to do laundry or take a shower if it was convenient. But most of the time, he just ran.

After a few months of steady running and some worried calls from his family, Steve started using his phone to post updates on his travels to the Internet. He

began by simply posting his location to a service that automatically built a map of his travels. Then he started to put up pictures and notes to show what he was doing in more detail. Running helped Steve get away from the hectoring voice of the media, but he found he couldn’t avoid it entirely. Often, one-sided political commentary or reports of earthquake devastation drifted to him as he ran, along with the noise from traffic or the smells of barbecue on a summer evening. Even the “free” apps he used on his phone nagged at him. Every time he went online to check his mail or post an update, there were a few more ads tugging at the edge his awareness.

Other runners heard about Steve’s trek and passed the word. A small online community gathered around Steve to follow his rambling. On his walking breaks, Steve read their comments and posted responses.

His fans helped him out by pointing out places wherever he went where he could get water, go to the bathroom, charge his phone, or find a supermarket with free food samples he could use for a quick snack.

The support from his followers let Steve strike out on longer trips, slowly making his way across the country. He planned his route to stay in the temperate zone, going farther south in the winter and back north in the summer. That way he only needed to carry shorts, singlets, shoes, socks, jocks, a cap, and sunglasses, along with a little money and his phone.

His steady pace allowed people to plan to meet Steve and run with him for a while. Everybody wanted to know what it was like to be able to run as much as he did. He told them, “I’m always tired, but when I try to rest, my mind starts spinning and I get edgy. It’s like I’ve always had one too many cups of coffee. The only thing that seems to help is when I run.”

Sometimes he would stop with a temporary companion to eat. A few times, he hit it off with a woman and they went to bed. There his endurance was also great—sometimes too great. And he wasn’t much for cuddling afterward, because by the time he was done the compulsion to run had built up again and he had to leave. Eventually Steve started turning down similar offers. As much as he might hope for an encounter that would turn into a relationship, he realized that if he couldn’t even manage an entire one-night stand, anything more was unlikely.

His fan base grew, and while his fame was at its peak, he made some charity appearances. He even managed to make a little money from race-appearance fees. His story went viral for a little while—at one point, six of the top 10 videos on YouTube showed people in costumes running alongside Steve. But the attention wound down. Within a year Steve was back to being, at most, a minor curiosity. His following contracted, though he retained a core group of runners and ultrarunners who helped him out when he needed it.

Daily, Steve wondered if his compulsion to run would ever end. He had no need for lodging, and there were still plenty of people willing to stake him to

a meal, so his money wasn’t running out. But in spite of all the people he met, Steve was lonely. Springtime came around again. Steve’s annual drift north had him running through Massachusetts when he received a message from the Central Vermont Runners in Montpelier asking if he wanted to drop by for their Tuesday-night fun run. He checked his GPS and figured that he had plenty of time to cover the distance to Montpelier before the next evening and nothing better to do, so he e-mailed back to say he was coming and turned north.

After the run, Steve went into town with a few of the club regulars for some Mexican food at Julio’s. The news was showing on the TV at the bar, so Steve sat with his back to the TV, which put him next to an attractive woman. He introduced himself, and she told him her name was Eleanor.

Over tacos Eleanor told Steve a little about her life. She worked as a home health aide, visiting people’s homes and helping them with their medical problems. Steve admired the way Eleanor obviously cared about her clients and wanted to do whatever she could for them in spite of the low pay and heavy caseload.

Eleanor was familiar with the basics of Steve’s story, but when she asked, he went into more detail. Steve tried to gloss over the loneliness and focus on the interesting characters he’d run with and his gratitude toward the people who had helped him out. But beneath Steve’s tales, Eleanor thought she heard a forlorn solitude.

Then the sound from the TV sliced through the conversation at the table. Steve winced when he heard a reporter talking about cuts in school health programs. “Something wrong?” asked Eleanor. “It’s the idiots on the news,” Steve said. “I don’t know what bothers me more, the fact that they’re fighting over cuts to programs that hardly have an impact on the budget, or the fact that they’re reporting this instead of something that’s actually important, like the war.” “

It’s just TV. It’s all about the ratings. People don’t want to have to think after a long day at work. They want to watch news and pretend they’re informed, but they really only want to see spectacles and stuff that confirms their view of the world.” “

Why can’t people do simple math?” “Everybody’s the same way,” said Eleanor. “You’re no different, Steve. You look at the news and see what you expect to see, and you let it make you mad. Sure, the stuff you see on TV or the Internet is usually angry, scared, or stupid. But look around you. Is that really all there is? You spend a lot of time out in the world, more than most people. The people you were telling me about aren’t mean and stupid. Why let the bad stuff drag you down? Stop and smell the roses, or the sweaty shoes, or whatever it is that makes you feel good, not bad.”

Eleanor smiled and put her hand on Steve’s. “You like running, don’t you?” she asked.

“Actually, yeah,” said Steve, distracted by her touch. “Though I’d like to have some choice about it, at least take a day off here and there.” “Well, the world, that horrible world you live in, is the same world that’s made it possible for you to run everywhere and manage to survive doing what it is you do. Have you asked yourself why you can’t see the good that lets that happen along with the bad? That there’s still a balance? Sure, you have to push against what’s wrong in the big picture, but you also have to stop and enjoy the small picture, which isn’t always bad, right?” Eleanor squeezed Steve’s hand, then let go. “You seem to think that you’re responsible for doing something about all the problems of the world. What a silly man.”

Steve raised an eyebrow in acquiescence and smiled back. None of this was new to him, but when Eleanor said it, it felt different. When dinner ended, Steve and Eleanor hugged and said good-bye. Steve thought about asking for her phone number, but the pressure he felt to run dissuaded him, and regretfully he headed back out on the road.

Still, in the long, empty stretches between his contacts with others, Eleanor kept popping back into Steve’s thoughts. Three weeks later, he gave in and wrote the CVR events coordinator to say he would be back in Montpelier for another run.

When he arrived that Tuesday, Eleanor was in the group waiting at the start of the run. Suddenly Steve felt both hopeful and awkward, like a teenage boy on a skateboard peering from the deck of a half-pipe for the first time. He walked around greeting people he knew, stalling, but by the start of the run he was next to Eleanor. “Hey.” “

Hey, you,” she replied happily. Steve relaxed, the run began, and soon they were chattering comfortably, undisturbed by passing miles or passing runners. Steve quieted as they approached the parking lot where the run ended. Eleanor noticed and asked if something was wrong. “Not really,” said Steve. “I just wish that sometimes I could stay in one place for longer than a meal or a quick chat.” “

Well, you never know. The world might be a bad place, but in spite of everything it brought us here tonight. Right here, right now isn’t too bad, is it?” “I’m not sure I want to count on the world to make this happen.” Steve teetered on the coping of the pipe, then leapt. “If I come back in a week or two, do you want to go for a run?”

Eleanor stopped and looked at Steve for a moment. When she grinned, it was like he’d hit a backside 180 for the first time. “Why not? We can take fate into our own hands for a change.” Before long, Steve found that he was staying in the northeast and planning routes that let him get back to Montpelier every week or so to meet Eleanor for a run. Steve loved how nothing ever fazed her. He found that he could disagree

with her without having it turn into an argument. Whatever the subject, she could always put a positive spin on it. Eleanor, in turn, was charmed by Steve’s naive desire to fix everything. He badly wanted to help, but he was overwhelmed by all the problems he saw, unable to focus on any one of them, an Albert Schweitzer with ADHD. She was serenely confident that one day Steve would learn to focus and make better use of some of the energy he spent on running, and she hoped to be around when he did.

Late in August, after another evening run that ended at Eleanor’s house, Steve hugged Eleanor and was set to say good-bye when she gave him another one of those looks. She asked if he wanted to come in.

Steve wanted to, very much. But he wasn’t sure whether it was the right thing to do. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” he asked. “Soon it’ll be fall. When it gets colder, I’ll be heading back south and I won’t see you anymore, for months at least. It’s not fair to ask you to wait for me. And even if we do get back together, we can’t really be together since I always have to get up and go.” “

You still worry too much,” said Eleanor. “I’m enjoying your company now, and if you stop coming back when winter comes, well, I’ve been dumped before. I don’t let it keep me from hoping and enjoying the good moments when they occur. “

Look, it’s late, I have to work in the morning, and I’m tired. Why don’t you come in? I need a shower, and you could use one too, road boy. Then I’m going to bed. You can lay down with me and keep me company for a few minutes while I fall asleep. Leave whenever you have to; I’ll be fine.”

Steve followed Eleanor into the house. They showered, had a snack, and then went into Eleanor’s bedroom. She set her alarm for 5:30, and then they got under the sheets. Eleanor kissed Steve goodnight, then curled up on her side. “Hold me, Steve.” He did. “Mmm. That’s nice. G’night.”

Steve lay there, with Eleanor warm in his arms. Soon her breathing deepened, and he could feel her relax into a deep sleep. It felt right to start breathing along with her, trying to get just a little closer before he had to leave. He shifted until he could feel her heart beating slowly against his forearm. Just another minute or two; then I’ll have to get up and leave, Steve thought. He took in a deep breath, inhaling her scent, then released it and shifted slightly. “

BRRRRING! BRRRRING!” Steve sat up abruptly. What was that? Why was it light all of a sudden? Next to him Eleanor stirred and stretched an arm toward the nightstand. The sound stopped. She looked up at Steve and said, “Oh, good, you’re still here. Give me a kiss and then I’ll get up and make some coffee.”

Steve realized what had happened. “I slept,” he muttered, slightly dazed. “Yes, you did,” said Eleanor. “Did you know you snore? Now kiss me, and let’s get going. It’s time to start another day.”