When I was little, I remember running as fast as my legs would carry me around the playground in spring. My arms were outstretched as far as I could reach them. My eyes were closed tight. Occasionally I would bend my knees, dip and swoop my body as I streaked across the tarmac. Introducing a few spirited leaps and turns, the fresh air would coolly rush over my skin and through the spaces between my fingers; it would whip and snatch up my hair in its torrents.