Time.

Kahlil Gibran's idea of timelessness stuck with me today as my morning began with a different 6 miles than originally intended for this day, weeks earlier.  Perhaps it was, as needed, justification for skipping out on yet another official 10k or, rather, a reminder that all of this started on my own terms, for my own enjoyment and Gibran was obviously a huge backer of self-awareness and delight in simplicity.

Regardless, as I trudged through the miles, Gibran's words reminded me that we are not owed tomorrow and reinforced that as long as I run for myself, I'm running for the right moment.

I must have repeated, "But if in your thought you must measure time into seasons, let each season encircle all the other seasons, and let today embrace the past with remembrance and the future with longing," consistently for about 10 minutes and suddenly my legs were lighter, the sun warmer, the sound of Geese louder and I knew I was where I had to be.

Today's choice to ditch a 10k, race bib and all, for an unofficial run was more about peace than peace-of-mind.  Although I had no doubt I was ready for the 10k distance, I had severe anxiety about the pre-race warm-ups, crowds and shotgun start.  I just didn't want to pin anything anywhere and the thought of shivering in a crowd of strangers, as appealing as that used to be, simply isn't anymore.

So I chose my own path over a pre-mapped course and covered a great 6 miles down Columbus Blvd., past Penn's Landing and along the Waterfront until I reached the Casino, turned, caught the Sun shining off Camden and headed back along the same stretch of sidewalk.  It was not an easy 55 minutes and I was very happy when my Garmin beeped loudly at the close of the last mile, but it was my own quiet example of living in the present.  Totally worth it.