I hate running. I really do. Almost as much as I hate yard work.
But over the weekend I ran around the lake by my house; mostly because it was raining and I’m a sucker for experiences.
About 15 minutes into the run, I had to talk myself into running into the next tree, or next light pole so I wouldn’t quit. It worked. Eventually, I came across a marker that said 1.25 miles. Because I think the world revolves around me, my natural thought was that my house was 1.25 miles from that very spot.
So naturally, I made a deal with myself. I would run until the marker that read 0.5 miles, then stop and walk home.
So naturally, I was stunned when the next marker I noticed said 2.0 miles instead of the 0.5 miles I was hoping for.
I write down this whole story because that day I realized my perspective was flawed and finite. Not only did I not see the whole picture of where the markers stopped or started, I assumed (foolishly and selfishly) my house was the beginning of it all.
Soon I realized that I bring the same flawed perspective into “real life”. I get all pissed off about my circumstances without pausing to remember that I don’t see it all. I don’t see my life from end to end, I see where I am at at the moment (and often think I’m the only piece that matters). So maybe that really sucky part of my life now is actually crucial to the next season or crucial to someone else’s current season. I don’t know. But I do know that the right perspective matters. And the right perspective has to come from an outside source.