“Wait: There Were Birds and Trees?!?”

I arrived home from my 9 km run this morning, hot, sweaty, and somewhat out of breath. In response to my wife's question "how was your run?" I said, "I didn't run very fast, but I ran well." My response surprised me a bit and got me pondering how far I've come in my thinking over the last number of years. Perhaps giving up on speed as my only criteria for evaluating my run is because the aging process has taken away my ability to constantly improve my running time. Perhaps it's also a sign of the aging process working wisdom into my soul. Over the last few years I have wondered: could it be that there is a better way to evaluate my runs than the distance or the average time per kilometer? Could it be that actually noticing and being present to the clouds, the weather on the lake, the feel of the path beneath my feet, and the lively honking of that flock of geese overhead is more important than my 5.5-minute kilometer pace? Might it be possible that stopping periodically to catch my breath and take in my environment (including the unseen environment of God's presence with me) is of more value than doggedly running the whole distance? These are radical thoughts for a competitive guy like me.

When I was much younger, back in the 80s, I went on a personal growth course on Orcas Island for 5 days. The 1980s were a time where these human potential movement courses were springing up left, right and center, with the intention of helping people become better, more self-aware and self-actualized individuals. There was so much good that came out of that experience for me (including, most importantly, meeting my future wife!). What I remember most from this particular retreat was "doing the 2 km". This was a daily exercise that the facilitators put us through. The instructions were that we were to "do the 2 km to the best of our abilities." They irritatingly repeated these instructions each morning. The first day I interpreted "the best of your abilities" as "run as fast as you can". I took off like a rabbit (I was in my mid-20s and fairly fit at the time) and, there were several others in the group that had the same idea. Out of the group of 40 or 50 individuals, I think I "came in" second or third. I wasn't too far behind the "winner" and was determined by the end of the week to claim that first place position — my assumption being that the winner was the one who completed the 2 km first.

The interesting thing was that we had the opportunity after "the 2 km" to share in front of the group, if we wished, our experience. There was a variety of sharing. The "as-fast-as-you-can" people shared about their experience of pushing themselves to the best of their ability, their racing heart and breathlessness, along with their determination to do even better the next day. Others, surprisingly to me and my ilk, shared about other criteria that they set their sights on in order to do the 2 km to the best of their ability. They talked about such things as walking with newfound friends, good conversation, enjoying the cool breeze and the sight of different species of birds and trees. What?!? There were birds and trees?!? And even if there were, what did this have to do with the race? And then it dawned on me (after several days of "the 2 km" and this sharing), that no one has said anything about racing. The task was to "do" the 2 km to the best of your ability.

Speed is an easily measurable and tempting outcome to focus on. Why are we so obsessed with it? Why does Google maps evaluate different routes by the single criteria of how long each takes to reach the destination? Should they not use other criteria such as the sights the different routes offer along the way or the anticipated quality of the experience of the drive? Would it not be a better drive to add 5 minutes to a 30-minute drive in order to go along the lake rather than amongst drab concrete buildings?

It makes me wonder — have we sometimes swallowed a lie regarding how we define a good run, or a good drive, or a good career, or a good life? Are metrics such as speed, efficiency, and production the best ones to evaluate our life by? How about such intangibles as beauty, truth, goodness, relationship, and presence? Are we sometimes moving too fast to be present to such things as these?