Just the other day I went for a run. I say this as if it is an unusual occurrence, which it is not.
I mapped it out beforehand, another thing which is not so uncommon. However, when I pulled up to the trail, I was caught off guard. There, in the little grassy spot in which I typically park sat a “No Parking” sign. It was the sort of sign you question, unsure of whether it is legitimate, or the handiwork of some grumpy neighbor. Despite my skepticism, I heeded its demand and drove a mile down the road to a big, open parking lot with ample space.
And just like that, the run I had planned would be different than expected. But, what’s two extra miles? It would make for a nice little warm up: a mile of pavement on which to stretch out the legs before hitting the trail. And on the return, a nice cruise to the finish. This I could live with.
After the typical pre-run stalling routine and a somewhat odd conversation with one other person in the parking lot, I began my run. A mile later, I was right back where I had intended to start all along. Turning onto a ribbon of singletrack, I slipped into the woods and disappeared. A short while later, the trail made an abrupt right before crossing a small creek and segueing into a steady uphill. After a bit of climbing, the trail markings I was following made an unexpected turn. Following a series of blue ribbons, I soon popped out onto a road.
Taking the path less traveled. All photos courtesy of Zach Miller.
I knew immediately that I wasn’t where I had intended to be. I knew where I was though, and adjusting on the fly, I easily found my way back to my planned route. Void of any major route changes, the next 10 or so miles of the run went smoothly. Then, as I neared the final miles of my run, I re-entered the patch of woods I had run through in the beginning of my run. Once again, I found yet another deviation from the route I expected to take. By the time I made it back to my truck, I had run about seven more miles than I had planned. Not that this was a bad thing, for it had been a great run and the extra miles were more than welcomed.
As I drove that day, my mind started spinning. Perhaps I was hungry because my thoughts drifted to food. It wasn’t so much food itself that I was thinking about. I was thinking about the way in which I go about selecting a place to eat. I don’t like to think of myself as being picky, but when I have a say in what I get to eat, I like to try to ensure that it will be something good. What can I say? I really enjoy food and I’d rather not drop my cash on mediocrity — or worse.
Hence, I do a lot of Googling. Things like, “Best pizza in Colorado Springs, Colorado,” or “Best food in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.” It makes sense, because I desire to eat good food, though on this particular day, I found myself re-thinking my habits. As I did so, I felt a strong desire to stop Googling, to stop reading reviews and analyzing star ratings. It was a longing to stop searching so hard for the best things and to simply start experiencing things. Instead of consulting the robots, I wanted to try things and let the experience be what it was.
We have so much information available to us these days. At any moment, we are only a few internet searches away from an informed — or at least more informed — decision. And while it sounds like a good thing, on this particular day, I questioned it.
What if life isn’t about having all of the information? What if it’s not about making all the right choices, fitting things into the box that we envision, or telling the perfect story? What if it’s not about mapping out the running route and having it go exactly to plan? What if it has far less to do with getting the outcomes we want, and far more to do with how we respond to the ones we get: the pizza that flops, the run that detours, and the friend who moves away?
Another scenic route explored by Zach Miller during training.
Sure, preparation is great, though perhaps we have taken it too far. Could it be that our ability to plan and know what to expect is hindering our ability to think on our feet? Perhaps our obsession with commanding our lives is keeping us from truly living them.
Of course, I don’t have definitive answers to all of these thoughts and questions, but this I do know: my run that day did not go exactly as planned. Neither did the one after that, or the one after that one. All were great. And all had bits of gold that I would not have found had things gone exactly to plan.
Will I Google things and read restaurant reviews in the future? Probably. Will I map out runs and follow them with my GPS watch? Almost certainly. Even though I will likely continue to do these things, I hope I won’t do them all of the time. Instead, I desire to carve out space for spontaneity. I hope I keep my head up, and my mind open, because I think life is less about controlling what is not and more about responding to what is.
Call for Comments
- Are you a planner or are you more spontaneous?
- Or do you think you’ve managed to find a middle ground?
