Are We There Yet?

The fog was thick on my jogging route this morning. Not so heavy that I was afraid I might get hit by a car or twist my ankle. But heavy enough that I couldn't see the end of the road up ahead. That was a problem because seeing the end of the road is how I manage to get through my runs.

I'm not a big "life's about the journey person." It's all destination chez moi. And the faster the better. I like day hikes up peaks I can see from start to finish. My job is ideal for me because most every project has a clear beginning and end - and rarely lasts more than a week. Running doesn't come easily for me, so I fixate on the traffic light at the end of the street and calculate how many minutes, steps, breaths it will take until I arrive and I can stop running.

It's always been this way for me. As a school kid, my first thought each day as I woke up was to calculate how long it would be until summer break, Christmas vacation, spring break. Not that I hated being in school - I was a nerd and liked it more than most. But I need something to look forward to. And I distinctly remember looking at my dad when I was a kid and thinking "Man, he gets up and goes to work and comes home and wakes up and goes to work and comes home and it just goes and goes without any summer vacation or spring break and no end in sight for the rest of his days. That must be miserable."

It's not as miserable as I imagined it, but I did go through withdrawals when I started working full time and lost that school year rhythm. I shouldn't have been in such a hurry to grow up. Being a responsible, working adult is highly overrated.

Those posters and desktop decorations that say "Life's about the journey" or "Remember to stop and smell the roses" make me tense. I know it's not healthy to be so destination-minded. I force myself to stop and smell the roses sometimes, but I just get antsy or end up disappointed that they didn't smell better.

So jogging today in the fog, I had to find some other way to keep my feet moving. I tried focusing on each breath, like in yoga. That only made me want to stop and walk. Then I tried distracting myself with my surroundings, but nearly tripped trying to read the details on a For Sale sign.

Ultimately I just visualized the destination I couldn't see through the fog. And at least in this case, the destination looked just like I imagined it. Probably because I've been on that route half a dozen times and the end of the road is my house. Getting home never seems to be the problem. Getting somewhere new, that's the trick, right? And trying to experience something along the way? Well, that's a trick I'm not sure I'll ever master.