Making Sense

I love the wild rush of cycling fast... I love it when the cold wind whips my face and warms my lips...and goes through every strand of my hair..my being...and makes me one with her soul...and then the warm feeling that follows...of running ...into a soft retreat. It liberates me...i know its something I'm doing outside...so how can it free me from inside?but then there i am..even if for a split second...it makes me free...to love..to understand..to fly.. All this is most probably nonsense...when I read it later. But everything doesn't make sense all the time..