Timing

I’m been thinking a lot about timing recently, mainly because I haven’t been proud of my own.

There’s a lot to get used to in a new city, new job, new friends and new weather patterns. Even when you feel like know which move to make, the intersection of moment and action really matters.

And, unsurprisingly, this realization came to me while running. Actually, racing.

Last week was the Corporate Challenge 3.5 mile run, where corporate dogs in cities around America dress in workout gear, improvise a few stretches, act like they’re having fun and chalk the whole thing up to “culture building.” Oh, so corporate.

Regardless, I began the race quickly, faster than I expected, and yet still felt good after a mile. We were running a long stretch into the wind along the Marina waterfront. The sun was setting in our eyes and wind was stiffly halting us from straight ahead. It was as painful a dead-flat stretch as I’d ever run. I did NOT want to run faster. But then it dawned on me: No one else did either. The men surrounding me were in a collective world of hurt and I was noticing their discomfort, which could only mean one thing: it was time to go.

That’s timing.

I picked it up, it hurt more, I accepted that and proceeded. I understood that if I ran faster then it would have maximum return because no one was going to go with me. Within a half-mile we were due to turn for the wind at our backs, which is the universal metaphor for awesome.

When I realized that I was conscious of the situation and that I could do something about it – it became clear that I had to act. I pulled away and didn’t see those men again

But this isn’t about running; it’s about timing. It’s about doing the thing you don’t want to do in the right moment because you’re coherent and capable – if not enthusiastic.

It’s a simplistic analogy for sure, but no one appreciates an overstretched sports metaphor.

What I’m actually doing is ripping off one of the best slogans ever:

Just Do It.