Time

Time.  We never seem to have enough.  It never stops but inevitably and on many planes, it does come to an end.  Otherwise sporting events would go on indefinitely.  Class schedules would be confusing and the workplace would be utter pandemonium. That is, if workers would even show up or on time.  Philosophers have varying points of view on whether time even exists. Isaac Newton believed, and his theories even gained him the distinction of having time named after him; Newtonian time.  And speaking of Newton, if an apple a day truly does keep the doctor away, then why do they have appointments or even waiting rooms?  What are we waiting on?  More time? Is their time more valuable than yours?  If time does indeed exist, then what is its value?  Is time truly money?  Where do you buy it?  Everyone knows that when your time has come, no money in the world can save you. Is time on your side or is it your enemy?  If an enemy, don't turn your back on it.  For if you do, time will catch up with you. Bet you didn't know it was chasing you in the first place did you?

We spend our entire lives using time as a means of measuring everything including the length of hours, days, weeks, months and years.  We use it to compartmentalize work days, meetings, bus, train and plane schedules and seasons of the year.  Our age is nothing more than a measurement of the amount of time we've graced the planet.  Doctors offices aren't the only people who schedule appointments.  We hustle from place to place looking at timepieces to keep us in order. 

Despite all of this, time sometimes slips away.  Time; it flies (ok, no more puns).  It's something we can't touch and something we can't feel but on and on it goes.  And so I'm left to wonder what has happened since the last time I posted on this blog.  A tiny little piece of the web that I created many years ago to help me stay motivated and document the trials and tribulations of my attempt to qualify for and inevitably run the Boston Marathon.  One of the greatest accomplishments, athletically or not, that I've ever dreamed to accomplish.  The entire journey was predicated on time.  On the margin of this very blog I have listed personal best times, along with times of each marathon I have attempted and completed.  Miles I have run measured in hours, minutes and seconds with time goals missed and gained.  It was a qualifying time that was necessary to get to Boston.  Hundreds of training runs measured with time to know how I was doing.  Calculations of time that would allow me to adapt my training and prepare for my runs.  And after six marathons, four of which were attempts to qualify, I finally did reach that goal.  At the Chicago Marathon (my 7th) in 2009 I ran a fast enough time to qualify for one of the most prestigious races in the world. As with any race, my Boston experience will forever have a number attached to it.  A time.  

With Boston checked off my list, I came home and found that running had lost a purpose.  Longer training runs of ten or more miles seemed more of a task than they had been when they were part of a schedule.  An inevitable letdown after spending years chasing a time.  Part of that letdown has been less attention focused on this blog.  No doubt life has gotten in the way and much has changed but one thing remains.  I still have a passion for running, and I still have a passion for writing.  As a writer I've learned that topics come at you from weird places.  Having forgotten about this blog largely for the better part of the last year I opened it up yesterday and said aloud, "It's time".