I admit that I am competitive.
I always have been. It is uncertain which is stronger, my satisfaction in winning or my detestation of losing. Whatever it is, it is persistent in my life.
Yesterday, I began my 5-mile morning run much like I do every day, when I saw two young men running 1/2 block ahead of me. They were running in my same direction at quite a pace. It was then that I noticed an entire group (gaggle, herd, obstinacy) of college aged men - running a block ahead of the other two - a block and a half ahead of me.
The conversation in my head went like this:
"You don't have to pass them. They are half your age. They are one and a half blocks ahead. You don't need to catch up to them. They are running fast. It's okay to not pass them. It's okay to not win"
I continued to try to convince myself that I would be okay if I didn't pass them, if I didn't win. However, the deeper, quieter voice was in charge telling my body to push forward. I found myself turning it up a notch, and then another notch and then, yet, another notch. One mile later I found myself passing them.
" You are passing them. They are half your age. You can do it. There they go. Eat my dust. Keep going, don't look back. They may catch on that it's a race and then you're in trouble. Keep going, keep going, keep going...."
By the time I dared look back - another mile or so - I couldn't see them.
I had won fair and square and was ready to relax my pace when I spotted a woman a couple of blocks ahead of me. Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was dressed in a coordinating jogging outfit - pink and black. Usually, this scenario doesn't threaten me. My regular stride would allow me to pass her in no time. In fact, she probably put makeup on to go running. It didn't take me long to see that the distance between us was increasing, not decreasing as expected.
"What the...? This cannot happen. I can't have just beat a flock of college guys to let pretty-in-pink win."
Now body and mind were in sync. I kicked it into gear. It took another mile to pass her.
"There she goes. Keep going, keep going, keep going. Don't look back."
I had won again.
By the time I finished my run in another 1/2 mile, I was ready to throw up.
I always have been. It is uncertain which is stronger, my satisfaction in winning or my detestation of losing. Whatever it is, it is persistent in my life.
Yesterday, I began my 5-mile morning run much like I do every day, when I saw two young men running 1/2 block ahead of me. They were running in my same direction at quite a pace. It was then that I noticed an entire group (gaggle, herd, obstinacy) of college aged men - running a block ahead of the other two - a block and a half ahead of me.
The conversation in my head went like this:
"You don't have to pass them. They are half your age. They are one and a half blocks ahead. You don't need to catch up to them. They are running fast. It's okay to not pass them. It's okay to not win"
I continued to try to convince myself that I would be okay if I didn't pass them, if I didn't win. However, the deeper, quieter voice was in charge telling my body to push forward. I found myself turning it up a notch, and then another notch and then, yet, another notch. One mile later I found myself passing them.
" You are passing them. They are half your age. You can do it. There they go. Eat my dust. Keep going, don't look back. They may catch on that it's a race and then you're in trouble. Keep going, keep going, keep going...."
By the time I dared look back - another mile or so - I couldn't see them.
I had won fair and square and was ready to relax my pace when I spotted a woman a couple of blocks ahead of me. Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was dressed in a coordinating jogging outfit - pink and black. Usually, this scenario doesn't threaten me. My regular stride would allow me to pass her in no time. In fact, she probably put makeup on to go running. It didn't take me long to see that the distance between us was increasing, not decreasing as expected.
"What the...? This cannot happen. I can't have just beat a flock of college guys to let pretty-in-pink win."
Now body and mind were in sync. I kicked it into gear. It took another mile to pass her.
"There she goes. Keep going, keep going, keep going. Don't look back."
I had won again.
By the time I finished my run in another 1/2 mile, I was ready to throw up.
But, I won.
Be good,
Scott
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