I’ve been running regularly for close to 15 years now. In the beginning, I could barely get around the block before that sharp, cold, steely pain in my lungs struck. But this past January 1 I thought I would start the new year right by attempting my longest distance yet. I easily made it, about 16 kilometres round trip, barely a third of a marathon but still my personal best. I thought it an auspicious start to 2006, and was surprised at how quickly my previous distances—8, 10, 12 kilometres—didn’t seem like much. Now I can’t run anything less; if I do, my legs start to ache as if they haven’t had enough. Just goes to show that you never know what you can do until you try—and are tried.That’s the way I’m looking at my job predicament, too. I’ve had a very good run with my previous career. Now that’s it over, I feel myself aching to try for longer distances. Sci-fi author Robert A. Heinlein has a great saying:
Nothing gives life more zest than running for your life.
These past few weeks I’ve felt like I’ve been running for my life—or better yet, toward it.