I was running for the first time in quite a long while, and it seemed obvious to me that running was all I should ever do, and all I should care about, since it was giving me such amazing and instant gratification. How could I ever do or think about anything else? It was difficult for me, at that moment, to understand why I am at present pounding myself into the ground with this terrible engineering degree at this less than stellar place in space, rather than pounding the pavement, so to speak, with my feet. Why am I giving up this ecstasy? I don't even want to be an engineer. I don't know what I want, but not this for sure.
Then, since I was thinking about the future anyway, I thought about Berg, this kid I knew in high school who was more devoted to running than anyone I'd ever known before. He always used to say that he only planned on living until he was 30, because distance runners peak in their late 20s, and by the time they turn thirty, they've lost their edge. At the time, I adopted the philosophy as well, because 30 seemed very old, and I was planning on running competitively for all of my life. But now, I guess that doesn't seem so old. And then I thought, wait, I never expressly told myself that I don't have that philosophy.
I was starting to get an endorphin kick by then, so the philosophical implications weren't quite as imperative. Instead, I assumed that my life philosophy still included this limitation (I'm not sure yet if it does or not). Would I still be okay with what I am doing? I don't know. What about if I knew that I had only two years left? Would things be any different if I died tomorrow?
I pondered these questions for about a mile, relishing the breaths I was taking, and I decided something. If I'm going to die tomorrow, I should certainly start working on what I want to have accomplished in 10 years, because then I can die redeemed, like I finally was working for something, and not just striving for self-gratification. If I'm going to die in two years, then I better start today too, because then when I die my project can be in full-swing, and other people can carry on my legacy. And if I'm going to die in 10 years, then I definitely want to start today, because if I die then without completing this thing that will have become so important to me by then, I will be very upset as I leave the world.
As I finished the run, I thought that I would go back to my room to study the sorts of things about which I will require knowledge tomorrow, two years, and a decade from now. My next thought was that the run was the least wasted time I had spent in quite a long while.
My final thought as I ran up the stairs was that I sure wished I knew what I was supposed to be striving for.
