Your “Just” is Another’s “Wow”
How to rediscover awe
I was explaining to a friend the other day that I’m thinking about entering a Turkey Trot — a race held on Thanksgiving morning. “It’s just three point one miles,” I said and shrugged. She looked at me like I had sprouted five extra eyeballs. “Just? I don’t know if I’d want to walk that far.”
That got me thinking. There was a time when running a 5k seemed impossible. But a while back, I started to notice all the runners zipping back and forth past my house. And then I asked myself a life-changing question: Why couldn’t I do that?
A few days later, I hit the streets. My first run was a disaster. I ran the whole thing somewhere close to my max heart rate, substituted normal breathing for wheezing, and managed to skin both my knees. Not the proudest ten minutes of my life.
The nest day, bandaged, and with a shiny new inhaler in tow, I went out again. And again. Pretty soon, I could run a mile. Then three. I started reading everything I could find about running.
The morning I finished my first 5k, I was flying high. I ate orange slices with gusto and high-fived the other runners. I stretched and strutted in my sweat-soaked running duds until it was time to head home and shower off the funk of that first taste of triumph. That night I signed up for a half…
