There is a difference between running and crawling. In my peak physical condition two years ago, I was able to manage “Rawling,” some combination of the two. And it felt great. I could do this for a few miles with ease, and manage 10-mile walks with even greater ease.
Fast forward to the effects of butt-sitting 60 hours a week for a year, and you have the sumo-wrestler-esque physique capable of turning a 6-mile walk into a mountain climb.
Last weekend, I asked my butt-sitting self, “It’s a gorgeous day, why not walk to the farmer’s market?” Well, it turns out I picked a winner of a day to do so. Unbeknownst to me, this is what was happening on my route: Northwest Passage Relay
Staying on the opposite side of the road as the runners, I found myself occasionally serenaded by half cheers from team vans where for split seconds the identity of the runners and the walking fat mama carrying backpack of vegetables was confused. It was both inspirational to watch the runners and also a sad reminder of my former glory. When I could Rawl freely.
This morning I awoke with flashes of my future self walking across the country, and that keeps me knowing I will get there someday on my own not so rapid terms.