This morning I woke up early to run my 4-mile long run before I had to help close up the house and pack the van. It was a beautiful, sunny, hot Florida morning. And it was a bittersweet run. I love finishing my long runs. I work hard all week and deserve the sense of accomplishment I feel when my Nike+iPod tells me I have 400 meters to go, then 300, then 200, then 100, then "congratulations, you have completed your workout." But it was my last run along the ponds and palms and friendly neighbors. Next week, it's back to the gym and around my condo neighborhood, which just isn't the same.
As I ran, I daydreamed about what it would be like to live there, to have a decent job and not care about what people thought of me or what I chose to give up to get there. I daydreamed about the many years I've daydreamed the same dream over and over. It's 17 years, at least. I thought about everything that has happened in my life that took me so far away from this goal.
Should dreams have a shelf life? Should we let go of hopes and goals that seem to drift further and further out of reach? I don't know where the line is that divides failure and cutting your losses.
Isn't that how we sometimes feel about our health goals?
So, what is the shelf life of a dream? I guess we find out when it leaves a bitter taste in our mouths.