Showers Bring Me Joy

Have you ever gotten dirty? I'm not talking like, forgot to shower yesterday, have some funk. I mean like, you took a shower and the floor of the tub turned a different color. So dirty your dog licks you when you come inside because you're a salty salt lick. Or that post party alcohol sweat that leaks off you after a really drunk night, still have last night's make up and probably at the very least someone else's saliva on your face, just going commando, cuz I didn't bring another pair of underwear to work kind of dirty.
And then, at some point, you get to shower off. And you know that feeling when you get out and your skin's all squeaky and your pores are freaking huge and you can't see your hand in front of your face because you live in a shitty house with bad ventilation? That feeling right there? Even the healthy bacteria cowering in fear, whole new person kind of clean.
That's how I feel after a solid workout. Except it's like my insides have suddenly stepped out of that shower and are now breathing in that air and feeling like Mitt Romney's bank account(s). I feel like I've had all the bad bits burned off and filed down and regrown new ones.
  Then, a load of endorphins spreads through me like Aquaphor after 4 hours in the pool. Moisturizing my brain, if you will. And it's that reason, partly, why this mediocre, front of the middle pack, awkard form and even awkwarder running outfit chooser keeps running.
   It's not the runner's high, per se, it's this intense joy that comes after it. And when everyone has left the track, I can bust out some hundreds, the fine finish of a distance workout, and dance around to something ridiculous in my ears and feel the joy of pure speed coming out of me. Time slows down and I exist somewhere outside of it, outside of the burn of pure effort, inside the screaming on a mountain top, totally in love, driving 150 mph, just won the lottery, came so hard you almost blacked out, heard the perfect drop in your favorite song, will fight the whole Spartan army by yourself bubble. It's fun for the sake of fun. It seems counterintuitive that pain should precede that, but who am I to argue with science.
  And in that moment, the world slides away and I feel like, for all my other functions, there's this one thing that I was absolutely, higher powered, intelligently designed, harder-better-faster-stronger, totally fucking made for. (I can do that in races, but it's usually at the end and then followed by puke. ) It's this feeling that negates the pressure of the world around me. It makes my bank account (or lack thereof), my bills, the gay haters, the gays, the family, the voting, the economy and the Facebook all stretch out across the event horizon and dissapear.
  It's just as bad as drugs. I should be locked up for a junkie, for shame. So high right now!~