Late start. (LATE) Aspirational intentions at 5:23 a.m. not converted into action until late morning. Chopping through a mountain of Emails. Tumbling. Reading. Cat videos. (How many of these can I watch?) Find myself in workmanlike mode. Stress notched up a few clicks. And racing again – like mid-day on a workday treadmill at the office.
And then, I come across Terry’s post and Yellow lights are flashing…
I’m in a hurry to get things done
Oh I rush and rush until life’s no fun
All I really gotta do is live and die
But I’m in a hurry and don’t know why
~Alabama, I’m in a hurry
Oddly enough, my immediate concern is not why I am in such a rush on a Saturday morning. But, synchronicity. Why is Country Music around every turn. (Now Country music, this is something to be concerned about. Then the mind goes back to HURRY. What’s the Rush?)
I glance outside. Overcast. Dreary. 33F. AccuWeather says it feels like 27F. DK feels like Elliptical in front of NetFlix. Maybe this afternoon. I get back to reading. (So much for the lasting effect of the inspirational biking video this morning. What delicious paradox. Frenetic pace at work. At home. At everything. Rush. Rush. Rush. Except to get at exercise.)
Becky’s post clanking in my head. “What happens for me is that if I don’t do something earlier, it doesn’t get done.” Sympatico Becky. Sympatico.
Before I know it, it’s 8:50am. (OMG. I’ve killed 3 ½ hours behind the screen. You are such a lazy A**. GET GOING NOW. GET OUTSIDE.)
I ran upstairs. Put on my sweatpants. Slip on my fleece jacket. Grab my hat. And look at mirror. (You are Johnny Cash. Black sweatpants. Black jacket. Black hat. Tough, mean-looking S.O.B. No one messing with you today.)
I’m out the door. Hit the start button on Garmin. (Still in awe at how all this works. How this gadget connects to some whirly birdy flying high in the atmosphere. I love Technology)
One and half minutes of standing on the porch. Satellite not connecting. Feels like 21F. I stomp feet up and down to get warm. (Damn Technology. Where is the whirly birdy? Or, can this be another message? Patience grasshopper. Patience. What’s the hurry?)
And we’re off.
Some days you run and you don’t have it. I was confident that day was today.
Yet, I felt light. I set an early brisk pace. Legs felt light. Puzzled. I hadn’t been road running in weeks. (Ahhhh, yes. I’m not wearing a 5lb down jacket and slogging in my UGG boots. That’s it. And here I thought that it was my prime physical condition. Shoulders slump. Weekend warrior on delusional jaunt.)
1-Mile Marker. I pass by the Police Station. AND I pass the Cemetery on the right. I turn away and look left, but not before I see a flock of grazing Canadian geese. (Lightness is now Heavy. Tolle says just watch the thoughts. Don’t resist. Shirley MacLaine flies by. Shirley MacLaine. Could it be a sign? I’ll be a goose?)
2-Mile Marker. (No. I am a hummingbird bobbing from one honey suckle to the next.)
3-Mile Marker. (No. I am an Osprey. Soaring over the Kootenay River in and out of the wind drafts in search of a speckled rainbow trout.)
4-Mile Marker. (No. I am a baby sparrow with a broken wing rescued by a child.)
5-Mile Marker. (No. I am a Trumpeter Swan with my 10-foot wingspan leading my flock in migration to Mexico.)
Time Check: 5.56 miles. 54:44.
Chubby, old man is running 10-minute miles.
(I am NOT a Cheetah.)
Related Posts: The Running Series.