Happiness....and the long distance runner

Happiness apparently comes to those who wait, to those who get up early, to those who dream, or love, or something else that I don't remember.
I think happiness is a state of mind, a decision you make, like buying a car or painting your house.
I have known people who have grieved losses, have very little possessions and are still happy.
So what does it feel like? Can you truly say that you ARE happy? Am not so sure that happiness is something that you can necessarily have or possess all the time.
I glimpse it. Moments.
Snapshots. I seek it, daily.
When I walk, when I listen to music, when I pat the cat, when I wash the dishes. That is what keeps me alive. That feeling that stops everything about me and just makes me effervesce...happiness.
Isn't that why we take pictures? Hoping to capture that happiness for later recall. Isn't it why we bother with sex? Or drink a tonne of alcohol: for happiness.
People ask you if you are happy, people take drugs to BE happy.
But in all honesty, sit and think, and you will find that the only way to achieve that feeling is if you decide that you will be. Just try it...it is easy to make yourself unhappy: just think of the next time you get a bill, or look at the news, or criticise yourself in front of the mirror. I know people who thrive on that: the opposite of happiness is what they seem to be alive for. They whinge, they moan, they complain, they cut themselves, they bitch. Well, they make everyone else miserable, that is their mission.
But a fluffy cloud, water on my skin, the smell of milk behind a baby's ear, a smile, the burning pain of a gym workout], my daughters' laughter, and hell, even their shittiness. The knowledge that I am alive to one day experience a little bit of happiness...that is happiness.
Oh, and yeah...don't sprint...it's an endurance race.