Once (Again) a Runner
I sit in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the Gardiner Express watching Toronto’s high rises turn molten copper in the setting sun. It’s a trip I take two evenings a week, driving eastbound from the sprawling suburbs to the downtown core.
Despite the inevitable gridlock, I’m happy to make the trek. I’ve grown to relish the slow crawl towards my destination. It feels strangely healing, especially on days like today.
I consider the absurdity that, in my 30 years on this planet, I haven’t found anything I’d rather do than spend my evenings running laps around a mildewy track.
The breakup
In 2020, after almost a decade of competing, I relegated running to the back burner for the first time in my life.
No one told me that I had to quit running, but there was this unspoken pressure to minimize its importance in my life. I needed to let other things take centre stage. Namely, making money.
At the time, my professional calling seemed to demand my undivided attention. Any time and energy spent on hobbies felt frivolous.
Why run when you could just work more?
I told myself it was for the best as my flats lay in the corner of my room collecting dust. I…
