How Paris Taught Me Joie de Running
I still have dreams about work. Transported back to the office, I find myself once again juggling priorities, negotiating relationships, and having numbers to hit. The scenarios range from the serious (e.g., I’m heading into a board meeting unprepared) to the silly (e.g., I’m selling rugs on a strict quota), but in each I feel an intense weight of responsibility. When I wake up, I’m relieved, but wisps of anxiety linger. Perhaps my brain is simply performing some spring cleaning, but I also wonder if this pattern indicates that, as I try to look past work, I have work left to do.
These dreams persisted as my family traveled to London. Despite the change in scenery, my memories of working in the city — including eight business trips I took there in just one year — may have been too strong. The visit was nevertheless invigorating. It was in London where I added walking to my regimen and also resumed running after recovering from eye surgery. Having gained my overseas “sea legs,” I was ready to take on our next destination: Paris.
