I took the blocks for the half-mile. The shot was fired and I was off. I’m a sprinter out to beat my best time and finish strong.
But just as I rounded my first curve I hit something, hard. I found myself, and every other runner, sprawled out on the ground. There were hurdles in the middle of our race!
Everyone was totally perplexed. Some runners got up quicker than others and continued on. Others just sat there bewildered, nursing their banged-up shins or scraped knees. Still others simply got up, dusted themselves off and walked off the track. This was not what they signed up for.
The rest of us moved forward. “That was weird,” I thought. But before I knew it, there was another hurdle in front of me! This time I could react a little quicker, so I knocked it down but still landed on my feet. “What’s going on?” I wondered as I kept running, “Isn’t this the half-mile? I’m a sprinter, not a hurdler.” But I’m all about the present moment, so I went back to focusing on my stride, my speed, my breathing, and the finish line.
Within the next few hundred yards I encountered several more hurdles. Some I knocked over, and some I cleared just fine. After a while, I got a real technique down and I can hurdle with grace. After the hundredth hurdle I’ve stopped questioning. I’ve stopped insisting that I’m a sprinter. Now, as I keep running, my philosophy is this: “Maybe I was made to be a hurdler after all.”
