Can I write a blog in 18 minutes or less? What am I, lining up at a race? Can I run this thing in under 21 minutes…in under 46 minutes…in under 1:45…in under 3:45…
17 minutes. Let’s go.
When Boston training began at the end of November, my crazy running buddies publicly declared that regardless of weather, once a month we would be wearing shorts. Kind of like a “Take Your Kid to Work” day when you’re in the thick of a multitude of sales, audits, new hires, and the like – only your office has heat. And a chair.
I rolled in this morning at 4:44 am to the sight of six bare legs standing in front of the mailbox, the one which doubles as a keys/shoes/baked goods receptacle for at least an hour three days a week.
“Capri tights count as shorts.” “It’s in your best interest to be agreeable this morning; I had a rough night,” I announced mid-door slam, only half-jokingly.
“Well, we’d look questionable in those things anyway,” one of them muttered, pretending not to be scared.
“You look that way ALL the time and aren’t you guys going to Yoga tonight? Oh how you help me substantiate my point(s) even when you don’t realize it.”
On and on it went this morning, our first morning without stupid cold temperatures and biting wind. Happily, while we were without those things, we were not without a shortage of smack-talk, as the four of us have signed up for a half-marathon next month.
At one point, around mile 6 on our way back with 2 to go, Doug turned back and yelled kindly said:
“EYES UP, Baby! It’s not that big of a hill!” “Keep your eyes up and the rest of you will follow!”
Typically by this point, my eyes are rolling; however today, I drew a parallel as I often do with running. It started, as it also often does, with a song immediately popping into my head: Keep Your Eyes Open by NeedToBreathe. Irony, I do love you.
There are days, weeks, months, even seasons when I have no idea what’s up ahead. Do I have plans in place? Goals to accomplish? Things on my radar? Of course. Utterly rhetorical questions. But can I always see how I’m going to get there? Also rhetorical; not always.
Sometimes all any of us can do is put one foot in front of the other and keep on moving forward. Eventually, we’re all gonna end up right where we’re supposed to be anyway. Even if we have to run into brick walls, trees, and porta potties along the way since we aren’t wearing our contacts.
(Right on time. Sam Costas Half? We’ll be ready for you.)
