Just Ducky

I caught a glimpse of my former self yesterday. I ran a 5K; just a small local race (about 100 participants) for a good cause, with an entry fee that was reasonable, and the promise of a free t-shirt and chip timing. It was my fastest 5K in years--but that's partly because I don't often run 5K.

And I got a medal.

We did an out-and-back along the local rail-trail, starting and finishing at the courthouse. And along the trail, I ran into me. The runner who used to live for race days and worked hard in between to shave just a couple more seconds off her fastest times. The runner who relied on her daily runs to provide good mental health along with the fitness and other good stuff that goes with running. The runner who never let her goals for a race get in the way of having fun and enjoying the camaraderie of the local running club. That runner. She was back, if only for 30 minutes on a Saturday morning.

I liked being her. I'd like to be her again--maybe a slower version, one whose mental health doesn't bounce back after a run as easily as it used to, one who might not (yet) like to devote another six months of her life to getting ready for one big race like it's the Olympics. Maybe one who uses running to make new friends in a new place. Maybe one who just wants to go fast enough to keep the pounds from creeping on but doesn't fret over a few seconds' worth of pace here and there.

What else am I missing out on by fretting?