The photo above is my grandson playing with my dogs on my favorite trail near the house.
When I go out and “run”, I am generally armed with my app that times and locates me, my interval timer, and a bunch of crap in my head about technique and form and blah…blah…blah.
And then I think about this boy, and I relax.
I don’t run for times or accolades. I’ll never “win” a race, as in crossing the finish line ahead of everyone else. I don’t run to lose weight, to lose inches, or any other numbers-related goal.
I run because I use my brain all day every day for the good of those patients who trust me to come up with solutions to their health-related challenges. I use it to figure out how to fit all of the things I want and need to do into a finite number of hours each day, each week, each year.
I run to play. To feel like a kid again, and sweat, and laugh. To forget about the regimented world of grownups and responsibilities. I run, and I walk, and I run again, and I walk again. I use an interval method of moving myself from place to place that is as old and time honored as our prehistoric ancestors who chased their food rather than ordering it from a drive through window.
And may I never grow up completely.