Tick-Tock: Time Winds Up Winning
Erstwhile days of glory: ephemeral, as foretold
2015: journal entry
On last Wednesday’s morning run, I passed my frequent “fly-by” favorites, Maggie and Claire (respectively: dog and owner). As I whizzed by — relative to their “out-for-business” pace — Claire called out: “Who are you chasing?”
I called back: “The perfect man — and I haven’t caught him yet.” (Truth be told. the clever comeback didn’t pop into my mind until two days thereafter.)
Who am I chasing?
Myself. I’m trying to keep up with myself. My fastest self. In races, I’d rather beat my own best time and lose to a 7-minute miler, than win a prize on a slow day because nobody faster showed up. I’d trade dollars for seconds if I could, 10-to-1: “Here are 600 bucks, shave a minute off my pace, please.”
Yet, as I chase myself, desperate to beat the clock, to best my time, Time is chasing me. So far Time has been biding itself. Like a sneaky SOB who suddenly sprints ahead at the finish line, after having lagged at a seemingly safe distance the 3 miles prior, Time lulls me into thinking I’m going to win.
So far, Time has graciously allowed me to pass milestones unchallenged. Time has generously compensated me for sundry sags…
