(3.0 mile run)
Temperature 33 degrees
Mile 1 = 9:31
Mile 2 = 9:38
Mile 3 = 9:17
I once had a leader at work who always talked about time. He would constantly repeat himself regarding this topic, saying that time was the only variable one could control. He was oftentimes pompous, going further about time stating that we had to use time in ways that were smart. By being efficient, he would allude, one could be better. Usually I would take his statements about time as a personal attack, an affront on what I sometimes believed: there was value in dwelling, pondering, and spending or investing more time in something. Efficiency could potentially erode and devalue certain activities.
As I was sitting at my desk glancing at regular intervals to the bottom corner of my computer screen where the clock is, watching the minutes quickly turn over to afternoon, I almost thought about not running over lunch like I had originally planned. That cursed time had once again gotten the better of me. And that fact unnerved me. Until I just decided to stop focusing on it, logging off the computer to change into running clothes.
The laps around the lake near work were chillier than the past week, a mere 33 degrees which is wonderful for this time of year but cold compared to our weather lately. I had my running app set on my phone to give me time and pace updates but surprisingly, even though I know they were in my ear buds, I wasn't paying them much attention. Today's ruminations were all about time.
My training for this half-marathon had a focus on time.
My work day was dictated by time, oftentimes on projects I may not have wanted to dedicate energy to, but a necessary part of work.
My mornings before work were corrupted by time: time I love to spend snuggling and feeding Lily. Moments of talking, laughing, and mimicking each other as I get her dressed. In the past, morning time used to be time I only had to focus on myself, and I was always at work earlier, better prepared for the day. As a dad, I've willingly given up that time. But it is still an adjustment that leaves me feeling disheveled, not quite psyched-up for the time ahead.
The end of the week came quickly and I'm not certain I feel my time has been well-spent this week. I'm sure I can articulate the best and worst moments in time this week, pointing to those as evidence that I'm a productive being on this planet.
I was pulled back from these time-laden thoughts with a reminder that my time running was half way over. I turned around and looked to my destination, directly across to the other side of the frozen lake. I could see my office calling me back, daring me to be late for my 1:00 p.m. meeting. It was time to pick up the pace and overcome the hilly path only to return next week, another time.