Anybody remember that one guy that you spent months crushing on...trying to figure out his classes...his lunch...friends...locker...just for a glimpse. I wasn’t a creeper...promise...but I chased a few hot guys. There was one. My forever first love. From the moment I laid my middle school eyes on that boy...pink polo, white pants, striking dark crazy hair, blue eyes...it was all stars and hearts...he was in the 6th grade and a foot shorter than me. Back then, the chase was all excitement and thrill and adventure and a dream. But I guess the chase never really left me.
And so it should...remain...the chase... the idea of love or romance or success or happiness or that one runner that you just can’t quite catch...no matter how much abs or grueling sweat or heavy breathing you put behind it. The chase is the perfecting of oneself or the thought of something better or more awesome than you, even on your best day.
Each Saturday as I run along the gorgeous Atlantic coastline, I obsess over dozens of swimmers with their perfectly sculpted physiques, training for their next Tri...and hundreds of cyclists exerting every bit of strength to climb bridge after bridge in their miled trail. And I wish it was me. I tell this runner girl that soon I’m going to be lapping it up out there...I mean after a few swim lessons or maybe get one of those bikes with the ridiculously small tires and skintight cycling jersey. I laugh deep inside at this. And somehow the thought of chasing this starry-eyed athlete’s dream, makes me better, stronger, more focused.
But for now, I’m going to keep chasing the thought of being the best runner girl out there.
Last Saturday, I ran Key West. One of 600 runners it was the smallest half of my career by far. I found the toned girl with the 2.0 hour marker and figured as long as she was chasing me, we were good. Then I noticed the girl who was running the entire race without shoes and I was astonished and completely taken with those uncovered and bare, black soles. Yes, she would be my high and lofty goal. So I chased the girl in the yellow sports bra with the small pony tail. The tall, skinny guy in the blue shirt, breathing hard, short breaths. The girl who was killing it out there, in the glowing pink tank. The beast of a man with the huge cross tattoo imprinted on his back. And finally that shoeless girl. One by one as I passed each...I celebrated a sort of success. Each chase was making me better...more disciplined...confidant...a champion.
Just a half mile out from the finish, Miss 2.0 suddenly sprinted past me, but I just kept on chasing the girl without shoes.
I saw my kids...my guy...running through the cheer zone...full of claps and happy yells and total adrenaline...I swept through the finish at 1:59.
It’s always worth the challenge...the hard work...the sweat...the finish. Never stop wanting, never stop running, and no matter who’s in front of you, never, ever stop chasing.
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