It’s a Wednesday afternoon at 1:45 pm. I am staring out the window of my 5th floor office in Atlanta into a mountain range of skyscrapers. What I’d rather be doing at this very moment is running along a real mountain range.
Like most, I don’t love or hate my job. It is what it is. It provides income so my family and I can live in a house, drive cars, eat, and buy running shoes. It is a means to an end. But on this particular day, I can’t help but wonder what is would be like if running were my job. What if I could turn back the hands of time 15 years? What if I was genetically blessed with flexibility, extraordinary lung capacity, and the right combination of fast and slow twitch muscle fibers? Could I handle two-a-days and 80-mile weeks? Could I learn to deal with the discomfort of oxygen debt and extreme fatigue? Would I crack under the intense pressure of competition? Maybe I could be an elite runner.
Then my thoughts drift back to my last marathon where I struggled to break four hours and nearly vomited from consuming too many energy gels. On second thought, maybe I wasn’t designed to be an elite runner. Regardless, a passion for running is in my soul. Tonight I’ll lace-up my shoes for a scheduled five mile run with a sense of adventure and excitement that is unmatched by any elite athlete. The beauty of running is that this sense of adventure and excitement flows all the way from the front to the back of the pack.
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