Faster, Please

Everything seems so much faster lately. Summer has raced by, each individual day blurring into the next.

And yet it feels like I’m not moving fast enough. Walking the sidewalks in the Loop, I’m easily impatient with tourists and dawdlers, and women walking three abreast, not paying attention. I grow annoyed with the people trying to text while walking (though they deserve some scorn), and I find myself weaving in and out of (sidewalk) traffic, rushing to the next light, where I wait impatiently before sprinting across the street.

I’m not sure what has happened to speed up my pulse, to make me anxious to move, move, MOVE.

Is it running? Since I started running this spring, I’m literally moving faster, if only for a couple hours a week. Has this subliminally affected my pace at other things?

Is it my newfound need to do even more? I feel like I’m trying to squeeze every last drop out of every day, to leave no stone unturned, to push and go as hard as I can.

Is it my increased caffeine intake?

Regardless, the world’s just not keeping up with my pace.

But I think that’s okay. It’s good to have some tension to push you harder and faster.

Though I do wish those tourists would stay to the right.


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