Running different tracks

I have made unwise decisions about money as a woman in my thirties. Looking back, I did those things because money to me represented happiness. But now that I’m in my 40s, I understand that although money will bring me comfort and small joys, money is not my ultimate answer.

Recently, I have been running. The process of getting to the point of running a kilometer (yes, only a kilometer!) without losing my shit was tedious. But this story shares so many similarities to the process of how I finally made peace with money.

So, I’ll tell you this story. About running and about money.

There is a jogging path near where I live.

A few months ago, I harbored the belief that I was never going to be a runner.

Runners have lots of stamina, they compete, and they have lots of stamina.

That’ not me.

I exercise because it feels good, and when I do, it’s softcore—

Yoga, walking, fifteen minutes of my favorite Zumba YouTuber, or five minutes cycling on an ancient stationary bike.

But me, running? No, running is for the strong and fit. Compared to them, I’m pulp.

Take for instance, my triathlete brother—surely, my performance doesn’t match.

But then, something happened. And I began to run.

The first instance happened while I was walking. I think I jogged a little to speed up my walking, to raise my heart rate.

And no, the first few minutes I did it, I was sweaty, and I hated it. That was almost a month ago. Now, I seem to be enjoying running, but I still can’t call myself a runner.

There is a point during running when I ask myself, “What the hell am I doing this for?” And then I always think of my brother.

Me and my brother are two very different people, we have different belief systems and priorities. Although I never asked him why he decided to train to be a triathlete, I am pretty sure I don’t want to be one. And therefore, we don’t have the same motivation as runners.

This got me thinking: I don’t have the same motivation with money compared to other writers, other mothers, other people, other Chinoys, and other Filipinos. I didn’t even have the same motivation when I was 30 versus now that I’m 40.

Some people run to become triathletes (like my stalwart brother), and others run to clear their heads and stop obsessing about grocery shopping. My brother and I may have some minor goals in common (Fitness? Meditation?), but we value different things.

He and I are fundamentally different, and comparing our kilometers run and speed is ludicrous.

Just as comparing my motivation to have X amount of money in my bank account.

I guess when I was in my 30s, I felt that I had to make as much money as my college classmates, or my high school classmates, or some superstar writer I have heard of, or a stay-at-home mom who’s into business I’m acquainted with in Facebook.

But now I realize, while tying on my running shoes, that we all run towards something, we all run away from something.

We are all running, in different directions even while on the same one-kilometer track.