Rewards
"Blessed is he who expects nothing for he shall never be disappointed." - Alexander Pope
On a run one evening at dusk in our neighborhood I had a wonderful encounter. The streetlights had just begun to burn as I trotted down a large hill into one of the "fingers" of our subdivision. I came upon two deer in a wooded area by a creek. One scampered off to my left as I approached, while the other dashed gracefully across the street in front of me. After I turned around to head back, the two had both crossed the street. Upon seeing me, they dashed 50 feet and watched me pass, just as I watched them, until their grayish coats and white tails blended into the trees and dusk. This encounter lifted my spirits and made this run amazing. I never would have anticipated any deer in our neighborhood, but Pope's quote holds true. This quote of expectations is fast becoming my mantra.
I participated in my first race since the November marathon debacle. I registered for the race on the day of the deadline before the price increased. I hadn't run more than 9+ miles in several months; this race was a half marathon. I haven't run on trails much; this race was a trail half marathon in a state park. I had no idea how I would do. My goal entering the race was simply to finish. I was more nervous about carpooling with members of the running group to the race than I was about the race itself. I'm largely incapable of meaningful social interaction under normal circumstances; at 6:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning, this problem worsens ten-fold. The day began as I readied to leave out the door to meet the carpool meeting in our subdivision, to be greeted, as I opened the door, by one of my running mates, hair amiss. He was relieved not only that he had the right house, but that we were "awake," (though husband was in his bathrobe; why he was up at 5:30 a.m. on a Saturday still remains a mystery). "Need the bathroom?" I asked. Runners and bathrooms always seem to go together, perhaps because we drink so much water.
We traveled to the race in one member's mini-van in sparse early morning conversation. Before I knew it, we were lined up at the start awaiting the gun. I had no plan. No expectations. No idea of pacing. I just went. As we started, I formed goals: make sure that I stay behind the strongest runner of the five of us in the running group who were there at the race. So I stayed behind M-, getting a few folks behind at times, but I kept him close. The trails we traversed were largely single track which made passing challenging. After several twists and turns I once again followed in his footsteps. Then he slowed behind some other man and this was not acceptable. So I passed them both. My new goal became to make sure that M- didn't pass me. I thought for sure he would have at the first water stop at mile 4 when I stopped. I stopped. There was one poor woman manning the water stop with two small girls who couldn't fill the cups quickly enough. So I stopped, grabbed a cup, filled it far more abundantly that the original one swallow that had been previously and drank the water. Then I sauntered on my merry way. I basically stopped again at the next two water stops. I've never done this before. I didn't really care. I wanted water. Needless to say, I didn't break any land speed records during this race. I didn't break two hours, either. It didn't matter. I came in the first of the five of us from the running group. It should also be mentioned that I'm the youngest of the group as well, which provides me with some advantage. Nonetheless, I raced again and was happy with the outcome. I expected nothing and was only pleased with the results.
My lowering of expectations should span across more things in life. For instance, we received Schlinder's List in Netflix. We watched the first part of the movie on "Side A" one night, leaving the second side for the following evening, only to discover that Netflix had shipped another "Side A" in the sleeve that indicated it should have been "Side B." Maybe we should all only expect to get "Side A" of life, so as to be delighted by "Side B."
I'm finally learning something. I'm learning that life's not about the destination, but rather the journey. I tend to look to the future at the next trip, the next visit with friends, or the next race. In the meantime, I'm wishing my life away. Keep in mind the destination, but enjoy the ride.
On a run one evening at dusk in our neighborhood I had a wonderful encounter. The streetlights had just begun to burn as I trotted down a large hill into one of the "fingers" of our subdivision. I came upon two deer in a wooded area by a creek. One scampered off to my left as I approached, while the other dashed gracefully across the street in front of me. After I turned around to head back, the two had both crossed the street. Upon seeing me, they dashed 50 feet and watched me pass, just as I watched them, until their grayish coats and white tails blended into the trees and dusk. This encounter lifted my spirits and made this run amazing. I never would have anticipated any deer in our neighborhood, but Pope's quote holds true. This quote of expectations is fast becoming my mantra.
I participated in my first race since the November marathon debacle. I registered for the race on the day of the deadline before the price increased. I hadn't run more than 9+ miles in several months; this race was a half marathon. I haven't run on trails much; this race was a trail half marathon in a state park. I had no idea how I would do. My goal entering the race was simply to finish. I was more nervous about carpooling with members of the running group to the race than I was about the race itself. I'm largely incapable of meaningful social interaction under normal circumstances; at 6:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning, this problem worsens ten-fold. The day began as I readied to leave out the door to meet the carpool meeting in our subdivision, to be greeted, as I opened the door, by one of my running mates, hair amiss. He was relieved not only that he had the right house, but that we were "awake," (though husband was in his bathrobe; why he was up at 5:30 a.m. on a Saturday still remains a mystery). "Need the bathroom?" I asked. Runners and bathrooms always seem to go together, perhaps because we drink so much water.
We traveled to the race in one member's mini-van in sparse early morning conversation. Before I knew it, we were lined up at the start awaiting the gun. I had no plan. No expectations. No idea of pacing. I just went. As we started, I formed goals: make sure that I stay behind the strongest runner of the five of us in the running group who were there at the race. So I stayed behind M-, getting a few folks behind at times, but I kept him close. The trails we traversed were largely single track which made passing challenging. After several twists and turns I once again followed in his footsteps. Then he slowed behind some other man and this was not acceptable. So I passed them both. My new goal became to make sure that M- didn't pass me. I thought for sure he would have at the first water stop at mile 4 when I stopped. I stopped. There was one poor woman manning the water stop with two small girls who couldn't fill the cups quickly enough. So I stopped, grabbed a cup, filled it far more abundantly that the original one swallow that had been previously and drank the water. Then I sauntered on my merry way. I basically stopped again at the next two water stops. I've never done this before. I didn't really care. I wanted water. Needless to say, I didn't break any land speed records during this race. I didn't break two hours, either. It didn't matter. I came in the first of the five of us from the running group. It should also be mentioned that I'm the youngest of the group as well, which provides me with some advantage. Nonetheless, I raced again and was happy with the outcome. I expected nothing and was only pleased with the results.
My lowering of expectations should span across more things in life. For instance, we received Schlinder's List in Netflix. We watched the first part of the movie on "Side A" one night, leaving the second side for the following evening, only to discover that Netflix had shipped another "Side A" in the sleeve that indicated it should have been "Side B." Maybe we should all only expect to get "Side A" of life, so as to be delighted by "Side B."
I'm finally learning something. I'm learning that life's not about the destination, but rather the journey. I tend to look to the future at the next trip, the next visit with friends, or the next race. In the meantime, I'm wishing my life away. Keep in mind the destination, but enjoy the ride.
posted by runninchick at 9:09 PM
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