Boy, do I walk fast. It's as if the only thing that matters is getting from point A to point B. I feel built to move quickly. My long legs give me a stride designed for efficiency. Efficiency to... walk.

I'm not aware of my stride most of the time. No, I'm just doing my thing without a care in the world. It's usually on lackadaisical walkabouts where I find myself questioning the speed at which I propel myself through the world. I slow down; I feel weird.

Why do I walk so fast?

Moving slowly is nice. I enjoy the stroll, and I notice my body loosen up. Now I'm going with the flow.

I embrace my saunter, and in doing so, I notice the gait of others. Observing my fast-moving compatriots, I feel outpaced.

Am I getting left behind?

I become distracted—lost in thought or looking at my phone—and once again, I'm moving full-speed ahead. It must be a pattern.

Resettled in my stride, I begin contemplating my subconscious rush. Time doesn't permit a full divulgence of exactly where and how this manifests, but needless to say, it's a frequent occurrence.

Why am I rushing?

An acute awareness of my mortality likely plays a role in my subconscious desire to move quickly. I have so many things I want to accomplish and experience in my life. Thinking about it, I suppose these are my most significant sources of anxiety.

But I cannot dodge mortality, so when it's all said and done, there will always be the possibility of more. Perhaps my focus can shift from what I'm doing to how I'm doing it. I want to enjoy the journey.


If there is a figurative scoreboard for my life, I'm in charge of it. Why stress out by rushing, only to miss the joy and serenity of my journey?

Whether a stroll through my neighborhood or my next big project, sustained momentum will get me to where I want to be.