Runaway Pride

I was feeling a little overwhelmed today. You know those times when you look at your bank account and wonder how you can work so hard and be so exhausted and still buying generic brands to save 20 cents? Then you feel guilty when you buy a $6 beer, even though it was the highlight of your week, but you tip $2 anyway because you know the bartender feels the same as you do and at least you can pretend to see the gratitude in her eyes when she thanks you.

I decided to grab a coffee (I got a medium even though I wanted a large because I wanted to save 40 cents) and take a walk. There was a rock under a tree by the lake - very Lion King - and I sat down alone with my earbuds in, phone on silent, no fucks given.

There's a running path just below the rock ledge. At first, watching all of the runners made me feel incredibly lazy, as I was the only person not moving within sight. But I decided to just do what I do best.

Look good and judge people.

Some of them were beautiful. Some of them should never wear a tank top in public again. Some of them had clearly just started their run. Some of them were covered in sweat, but seemed to have no intention of stopping anytime soon. Some were slowing down to a walk as they approached their finish. A few had bikes and sped past the runners. A lot of them wore collegiate t-shirts, though many of their college days were years behind them. In fact, I worried some might keel over any second.

All of them were alone.

Solitary, focused, moving. In almost an hour, I didn't see any words exchanged between people. And though each of them was incredibly different from the others, I realized they had all made the same conscious decision before setting out on this path:

To be better. To be healthier. To live longer and be stronger.

It was then I realized how many of them were probably just as exhausted, overworked, and broke as I was. But here they were making the investment to improve the only aspect of their lives they had control over.

Themselves.

Because nobody else can make you run. They can motivate you, sure, but you're just dead weight until you
lift one leg to stride past the other. So I got up and walked.

Alone, but empowered.

I somehow felt more connected to the world and the girls with the neon laces or the old men in windbreakers. I was even OK with the bikers who sped past me, because though I was moving slow, I was moving. We were all sharing a path I knew I would make it to the end of in my own time.

I'm buying a beer tonight,

TJB: Making It