Trees

Meandering a 10k, you see the trees over three hours. But if you were to sprint it, those same trees blur past in 45 minutes. Over the last few years, I've struggled to understand why my life feels so saturated—each three-month period since 2021 feels as dense as others' three years. A double-edged sword, sometimes leaving me with nothing but a desire to live a normal life just for a couple of months.

The alternative would be to float with the current, wait for life to happen to me, choose paths that are safe, predictable, unambiguous. Maybe in many cases this is wiser choice - one with a much lower probability of bringing me to failure and despair.

But I sprint the 10K. I sprint because of an insatiable hunger to experience life's fullness, because of burning ambition, because of unconventional views on how life should be lived, because of a relentless appetite for more, because I want to experience the full range of life, tell my grandkids what it was like to be in the thick of the race to an intellectual miracle, and maybe someday, write a book. There isn't time to meander because way sooner than we're ready to admit, technology will redefine so much of what we know. The world will flip on its head before I can finish my leisurely walk.

The trees I sprint past come in many forms. Some bear the fruit of betrayal, disappointment, and searing pain. Others—the prettiest of trees—bloom with radical love, inspiration, and hope. I've always been a fan of the metaphor of trees, because they represent something truly rare: permanence, unwavering stability, unconditional love, and selfless support. They're one of nature's few creations whose entire purpose is to benefit others, asking for nothing in return.

Beyond pretty poeticism – trees will literally give you oxygen regardless of how you treat them. Strip them bare, tear off their branches, set them aflame, and still, until their last breath, they will support you. And even in death, the soil beneath them brings more life into this world. Perhaps the trees one sprints past exist to selflessly nurture growth, saturate life with meaning, push them towards experiencing the full spectrum of life.

As you might guess, I recently collided with a tree of betrayal and disappointment. Of course it hurts to be reminded that running is painful. But that is the low price of admission for a saturated, deep and full life. For gaining wisdom, resilience, and mental fortitude.