Just worry about yourself

Earlier today I ran the longest distance I've ever run in my life -- four miles. On one hand, I'm pretty proud of myself. My time wasn't terrible (47 minutes), and I didn't die. Score. Hell, I didn't even get that lumbering, wheezy hippopotamus feeling that I usually do around mile 2.5. I think I might be making some progress with this running thing.

On the other hand, I know this distance is barely beans to someone training for a full marathon. Deep down I know I shouldn't compare myself to others and, in the words of my kindergarten teacher, remember to "just worry about yourself." We're given that advice over and over again as kids, but we seem to forget to live by it as adults. I know I do. Especially when I get passed in the park by a 16-year-old barely breaking a sweat, or worse, by an an old man who probably has more gray hairs sprouting from his ears than growing on his head.

That's why when I run I love see dogs out walking with their owners. Dogs are just just happy to be there. They're not worried about anything except enjoying themselves and smelling some new stuff. They're totally in the moment, and it's written all over their grinning, tongue-lolling faces. Bruno isn't worried about whether Fluffy got an extra lap on him this morning, or whether Rover left a bigger calling card under those pines near the playground. Happy dogs are a nice reminder to just worry about my good time.