I work in the an office building, and a lot of the people we work with have a lot of regrets. I've asked coworkers to come out sometime and watch me run. I run so slow, time run backwards. As I waddle along, your life runs in reverse. Scars becomes wounds become chances to exercise better judgment. I run slow.
Like most people, I enjoy running in the evenings, before it gets to hot. Unlike most people, I've been pushed over by a squirrel.
I run slow. Sometimes when I am running, I think of those zen fountains that absorb a drip drip drip of water down a bamboo tube before finally tipping over and dumping their contents into a pool. Each step I take is another drip. I think, that fountain would call me a pussy.
I run slow. But I know where I have been.
Six years ago, I didn't run.
Six years ago, I had pains bad enough to keep me from sleeping through the night. Six years ago, I felt like I needed to go to sleep at 2pm. And Six years ago, running felt impossible.
I run slow, and I have ways to go. But I can sleep. I feel alive. I can run five, slow, miles. Slowly.
Sometimes I get discouraged. I compare where I am to where other people are. But all that matters is where I am compared to where I was.
Once something good becomes something you are going to do for the rest of your life, the pace becomes less important. I know that my drip drip drip will amount to that deluge, eventually. Someday I will run 6 miles, slowly.
