I listen attentively as my friends describe their kids racing to finish 2nd and 3rd in the local 6th Grade small schools city wide competition. I see a girls XC team running across the fields while traveling during work. I watch a video of Dave Wottle winning the 800m at the 72' Munich Olympics from what appears to be a distance too far back.
Laying down to go to bed that night I repeat a ritual I am all too familiar with. Training regiments, plans and schedules run through my head before falling asleep. I seldom think about the past, but more so the future and what my training can bring me.
The alarm clock goes of at 4:55 AM and once again I turn it off to get another hour and a half of sleep. Why don't I just set it for 6:30 and get it over with? Why is there such a big gap in my expectations between lying down and waking up? There is a season when one contemplates the reason why one would want to commit approximately 2 hours of training a day just to race well. It can be difficult knowing the results will never be the same.
My daughter tells me she wants to be a runner. As most kids do, she looks effortless as she tears out over the first several hundred yards. I want my running to look like that. Running with no other expectations than to enjoy it for awhile and then the satisfaction it required more work than I wanted it to at the end.
Tomorrow is a new day. The alarm clock will go off and I'll have to decide then why I want to head down the road for the 4,000th time. Will it be for the grind or the shear pleasure it brings me to move along and enjoy the freedom of movement?
"Look at Mills! Look at Mills!"
I doubt the fire will ever stop.
