Runaway Future

I have a hard time running through the summer. First, it’s due to the heat. To be comfortable running, I either have to do it very early in the morning or very late at night. Although I run in the mornings on occasion during my usual “season”, running during the mornings in the summer usually leaves me sitting in my office chair sweaty, hours after I’ve finished the run, come home, showered, and gone to work. I think my hypothalamus take the summers off. I usually prefer going immediately after work, to toss off the frustrations of the day. During the summer, this often is the hottest point of the day.

Summer also is a period of movement for me, with vacations, work events, motorcycle events, my own things all rushing at me. I can sit with a calendar at the beginning of June and not find a free weekend until the beginning of August.

Added to all this is increased socializing, more times spent going out, enjoying the nice weather, less of the loner “me and the road” time that draws me to running.

So I haven’t run with any sort of regularity since the half marathon in May. I’ve put back on some of the weight that I had last year at this time, but there’s something more. I’m afraid to truly voice it, because I keep thinking denying it will make it disappear. My ankle, the ankle, is sore and stiff. I’m not sure if it’s some psychosomatic reaction, my body providing me with an excuse on why I’m not pounding the pavement. I’m not sure if it’s the red flip flops perhaps not providing the support I need. It’s not sore where the injury was though, a bit higher up, above the “ankle bone” itself, but it aches at times. I have tried stretching it a bit recently and that seems to help. I took a line drive off it at softball yesterday and that didn’t seem to help at all. I don’t think I’ve done anything to aggravate it or re-injure it, but I’m a little concerned. I need a strong ankle for running.

I need to run.

When I think of it, the best advice I’ve received in recent memory is actually quite simple and in terms of advice, actually not too clear.

I can still remember when it happened: I was at work, maybe three years ago now, discussing pants of all things. At the time, I was still religiously wearing clothes similar to what I wore through high school and college: cargo pants, a t-shirt, sometimes a button-up shirt. One of my co-workers was more or less making fun of the cargo pants and when I tried to defend myself, he asked why I needed so many pockets. I had some lame reply, something about carrying my cell phone and a handful of other knick-knacks.

All of the sudden, the teasing ended with a bit of a knowing look and half grin and the reply: “You’ll figure it out.”

Now, relating this story here, it sounds lame. I’m talking about pants of all things after all, but slowly, over the years I eventually did “figure out” the pants thing. I don’t think I even own a pair of cargo pants anymore. More importantly, I figured out the weight of the advice.

I’ve consistently been one of, if not the youngest guy at the office pretty much since I started. As much as I’ve been trying to keep my head above water and do my job to the best of my knowledge, I’ve grown up quite a bit within those walls.

I still have the impatience of youth, the desire to know everything there is to know, do everything there is to do, immediately, right now. But perhaps the best advice I’ve received is just to allow in your mind that some knowledge won’t immediately reveal itself and that some things come with time.

It holds true with life and with pants.

Earlier this week, I bought a tea at a local coffee shop. The tea came to $1.80 and I paid with a toonie.

As I got handed the two dimes back in change, the morning light flashed on the coins, mirroring a flash of enlightenment that struck me at that moment.

I thought to myself, ‘hey, I’m doing alright, I’ve got a decent job, I have some money in the bank, I have a pretty good apartment and I’m doing ok in the world. I have some great friends, I’m relatively healthy and successful for my age. People seem to generally like and respect me.’

‘How can I throw it all away?’

So I punched the guy behind the counter in the face.