surge

catching a second wind

it’ll start slowly,

unexpectedly,

and it’ll come,

the rush,

the solo drive,

the let me do it myself now,

the don’t interrupt me doing it,

the you can’t because i’m already gone,

unreachable in the breakaway,

breakneck speed.

~

it’s the image of a cross-country race: you run with a team, but really, you run alone. your race matters only in aggregate, and no one can help you except that they’re running just as fast or faster than you, and, ideally, you all reach the end before anyone else, but the real labor of the racing falls on your shoulders (legs and feet…) and only solo do you get to help the team win. Running away from everyone. As fast as you can.

This is the hidden excellence possible now.

Sprint.

Drop the hammer (as in go fast, don’t really drop your actual hammers, please).

When you catch the second wind, let it rip.

And you’ll hear me say this for the rest of my life if you spend enough time around me… in the words of Coach Arnold, “Run and let the points follow.”

Don’t think about your race, race it.

Don’t think about your work, work it.

flow state bliss

runner’s high

</end of 80s movie fist bump as the camera fades black>

~

See you again when the Sun hits Virgo, on August 22 @ 1:34pm PDT.

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Cover photo by Andrew Liu on Unsplash.