Running. Rarely the literal, usually the figurative. That’s what I pride myself on.
And I’m not alone. So many of us pride ourselves on our running. Our busy, our fast, our effective, our productivity, our oh-so-much.
How are you?
Familiar refrain, right?
In all honesty, I feel at my best when I’m busy. I feel at my best when I’m in routine, in schedule. I feel this productivity, this success.
Lately, maybe given all this transition, this run hasn’t been quite a run. I feel off. Life has been more of a labored walk. More of an anxious, cautious walk.
Honestly? A crawl. I’ve slowed to a crawl.
Like traffic. It’s slowed to a crawl and I’ve got somewhere to be and my left turn signal is on and I just want to get to that left lane. Some goofball is horn-happy and I hear that honk in the distance. I crane my eyes — accident ahead? — and what has been mere minutes feels like ages.
I look inwardly and practically shout to myself: Get your act together.
Grace sets in. (As usual.) A wise friend in the same place gives sweet advice: Enjoy the crawl.
Enjoy the crawl? Paradigm shift puts it lightly. Rather than berate ourselves, rather than feel ashamed of ourselves, we ought to embrace this crawling pace.
We ought to love this crawling pace, she suggests, and perhaps that’s our calling for this season.
We’re taught, trained, indoctrinated that a run is the best and a crawl is the worst. Moving forward fast is the key to success and growth and #ftw, right?
Wrong. Again and again, it’s the compass over the speedometer.
Tortoise and the Hare, anyone?
Crawling, contrary to popular belief, is not just okay. Crawling is to be embraced. We can celebrate where we’re going, no matter what pace at which we’re getting there. It’s about the heart.
And maybe it’s a struggle. But this struggle is where we are these days and so hey, let’s celebrate this crawl and embrace this crawl. Join me?