I was running home from work today, the sun was setting, and the summer air was cool. I was travelling at a leisurely pace; careful and deliberate with my form.
A family with two young boys—between the ages of 8-12—were heading towards me on the same footpath. The boys, full of energy, were running ahead of their parents. The youngest was galloping. He had great big strides, and threw himself forward with boundless energy. He bounced along the pavement with a big smile, and with complete confidence that his feet would catch him.
And here I was, carefully maintaining a short stride to reduce the impact on my knees, consciously aligning my feet and knees to ensure optimal mechanics, and keeping an upright posture whilst breathing through my nose.
When did I become so uptight? When did I lose the effortlessness?
I’m not complaining though. My goal is not to gallop, but to be able to run tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. It was, however, interesting to study the difference between me and the galloping kid.