I often laugh at the people who run according to their Garmin.
"We're not done!" they will squeal, pointing at their watches in objection as we approach our final destination. "This is supposed to be a 7-mile run! We've only gone 6.92!"
They will run to the end of the parking lot in exaggerated fashion, arms pumping and watch a-checking until they reach the critical 7.00.
I will laugh, and sometimes run with them as I tease, "That's right! It doesn't count otherwise!" Yet I am guilty of something similar myself.
I realized this
As I run tonight
Towards the end of the pier
It was a run to the beach and back
But to run to the beach
And not run all the way to the pier
Touch the gate, then turn back
It would not be complete.
What, it doesn't count?
No, it doesn't count.
I think I am better than those who run by their watches
They are dictated by numbers
Focused only on that dial on their wrist, they have no soul
I, on the other hand, have soul
I care about the place
And show my respect for my surroundings by shooting for one specific landmark
I must hit that point, and then turn back
The beauty is in completion of the route, a journey between two points
Yet how can I say there is any less beauty in the completion of their numbers?