Have you ever run around a park? (That would be Central Park for me, but any old park will do.) I’ve found that it’s sort of like running around a track. It’s very hard — for me, at least — to shut off the competitive part of my brain. Even on an easy run. I really don’t like being passed.
Before you go getting the wrong idea — it’s not like I’ve never been lapped. Far from it, actually. But I’ve always been a digger. I’ve always had heart. I’ve always loved the grind.
I went for a run today, and it was a very bad run. Imagine slogging through the soft sand — you know how it is, way up high by the dunes — only subtract the beach. And then add cement, and not a single excuse. Oh — and pounding footsteps. Lots of them. Going, going, gone.
Everyone around me was clearly making moves, and not just thinking about them. I spent the entire workout, the entire day, pushing myself to speed up. Just a little, so that I could fall into step with the group. But I couldn’t get myself there, mentally. Even though I knew it really wouldn’t be that bad, once I’d managed to catch up.
It’s about time for a pep talk, wouldn’t you say? Because we are not the people being picked off and passed by. And we are not the people surging just for a second before slowing down. And we are not the people with that little hitch in their breathing. Okay, fine, go ahead.
We just need to keep moving. One foot in front of the other.
Another weekend, another bakery.
Another week, another “emergency” chocolate bar.
Another night, another solo dinner.