Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger
It’s been unseasonably warm this Holiday weekend in Minneapolis, where I live. So I’ve been taking advantage of it by running outside. My typical outdoors run, which I do from, winter-permitting, April-Labor Day, takes me from our house, around Lake Harriet and back, which essentially is a 10K.
On Friday I met a friend for breakfast, came home and changed and went out for a run. It was warm by November standards, in the 50’s The sun was out and I was listening to a Pop playlist featuring artists whose songs I’d learned from our kids – Dua Lipa, Nicki Minaj, and the like, plus a couple of Rock songs thrown in for extra measure. I had the day off from work and felt like I had all the time in the world.
Saturday was an off today and today was forecast for the mid-30’s. Not exactly warm but warm enough to perhaps get one last outside run in before the winter season. But this morning, when I got dressed, I wasn’t nearly as motivated as I was on Friday. The nice, boring indoor treadmill at our local YMCA called to me. But I finished getting dressed, selected a 90’s playlist with songs from Screaming Trees, Hole, Cracker and others, and headed out the door.
It’s about a mile from our house to Lake Harriet; typically the worst part of the run where I’m still working out the kinks. When I turned to go on the running path that cormprises Lake Harriet’s permieter, I noticed a woman running at about my pace. I thought of heading in the opposite direction but, convincing myself that was silly, began running a few paces behind her.
Within minutes I realized I wasn’t enjoying my run but focusing on the distance between the woman and me and asking myself if I should pass her. “Just relax; you have nowhere you need to be,” I kept telling myself. But another voice would encourage me to pass her.
Eventually, I dug in and passed the woman, trying to keep a faster pace to get enough distance between the two of us. Then I settled in and attempted to enjoy the run. Within minutes the same woman passed me and kept going.
My run took me another 40 or so minutes and multiple people passed me. I started having those random, running-by-yourself thoughts that seem concurrently logical and dreamlike when you have them. About people I’ve passed, literally and figuratively. And the countless people who’ve passed me.
I’m not a competitive person but goal-oriented to a fault. If I have a Saturday without plans, one of the first things I do is make a list. If I go on vacation with my family, I decide upon a novel, or novels, I’ll read, and pace myself accordingly.
I know it’s not so bad being goal-oriented. But perhaps my singular focus on goals, on passing, has come at a cost. All the experiences I should have enjoyed more; people I perhaps should have appreciated more, given up more of myself. If I wasn’t so focused on goals, passing; thinking about what was next instead of what was right in front of me.
And speaking of what was right in front of me; those people who passed me earlier today? I never saw them again. They were on their own runs; going about their own days. As it should be.
Image credit: rod m
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