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My mind is always racing, and always going and always working, and it's a gift and a curse.

My brain is just always going and going and going.

My mind is always going. I'm always thinking what I need to do, what I haven't done, what I did do, what I didn't do as well as I could - I'm relentless that way with myself.

Racing is the only time I feel whole.

I'm constantly thinking.

I'm in a constant process of thinking about things.

My mind moves very fast. I go through a lot of moods and emotions.

I try not to think about anything special while running. As a matter of fact, I usually run with my mind empty. However, when I run empty-minded, something naturally and abruptly crawls in sometime. That might become an idea that can help me with my writing.

It's soothing to realize that my mind's processes are inherently uncontrollable.

Racing is in my blood, I can't quite get out of it yet.