Dear Random Runner,
Today I was walking towards Parliament Hill to attend the first Yoga on the Hill session of the summer. I was feeling down on myself for still not seeing much weight loss, and not running since Saturday.
In my navel-gazing, I nearly didn’t see you, but then you ran past me, and your bright gold and green shiny running shoes poked through my pity party fog.
You weren’t wafer-thin. You weren’t whisping along feather-light and perfect, nary a drop of sweat beading on your forehead. You weren’t dressed head to foot in expensive spandex. You weren’t serenely stepping at an even pace, your muscles flowing as an example of mechanical greatness in its perfect, human form.
No, random runner, you were huffing, puffing, red-faced and jiggly, with earphone cords flapping. You were jogging along at a pace I could keep up with, and you were sweating.
In other words, you looked like I do when I run.
So thank you for being out there, doing it, and inspiring me to remember that I am doing it too, and that we will achieve. And, even though I haven’t ran a metre since the weekend and feel all stiff and tight and twitchy to go, I’m not derailing on this running thing yet.
So if I see you again, I’m going to give you a high-five. Be ready.
Another Random Runner