I run, run, and run. I’m in constant motion to and from. I fidget. I bite my nails. I’m in constant motion. I’ve always been this way. I was born like this. A decade ago, I would walk 45 minutes in the morning to work and 50 minutes back home. On my morning walks, I would speedwalk race against similarly minded 6am New Yorkers. I compete against others. I compete against myself.

That’s who I am.

Today. This morning. I decided to not run. I was tired. Very tired. There’s a NYC subway app that lets you know when your particular train will be arriving at the station. I’ve learned to time everything to the second. Typically, I rush out my building at 5 minutes before the train may arrive and I make it to the platform on time. Sometimes with plenty of time.

Today. This morning. I was very tired. I decided to not run to the station. And, I felt a grand sense of pride. I was being laid back and letting things be. I didn’t even check the app to see approximate arrival. I assumed two minutes. Then I decided to look at my app and indeed it would be arriving in two minutes. I didn’t rush. I even considered sitting on a bench and enjoying a moment or two. It was a beautiful dream.

The second I had thoughts of sitting on a bench, I started speedwalking and ran down the stairs. I could not help myself. And, as I reached the platform the train arrived. In I went in. And, there began my usual trek. I tried to teach myself a new trick. But it didn’t take. Here I go again being a speedwalker. Being a mover. Someone else will have to sit on that bench. And, I will sit on it another day in due time.