A Slower Pace, In Real Time
Today I am grateful for our dog Oliver and how he is part of our family. I am also grateful for movies that are predictable but still entertaining.
As Darcy and I get set to head out for a long training run this morning, I am thinking about pace. Along Savannah’s waterfront on a sultry night last weekend, something became quite apparent to me. I walk fast. Sometimes too fast. What’s the hurry Lisa?
Darcy and I were sitting down taking a break and suddenly I noticed that the people....individuals, couples, and groups, were moving past us at a pace unfamiliar to me and many of my Midwestern counterparts. A steady, but unhurried pace. A pace that stirred less heat and humidity up.
I think it was more than the heat though. It was a real time lesson for me, the hurrier and scurrier. Our pace is a choice, though it can easily become habit too. The more acceptable pace in the South seems to be unhurried. Why push the pace when you don’t need to? Maybe it was the time of day. We slow down naturally in the evening if we have been on the go all day.
The word that came to my mind, and one I tend to associate with this region, was genteel. Polite, refined, respectable, well-mannered. We have plenty of that where I am from as well, but the South seems to take it to a different level.
This genteel pace we witnessed was obvious, and I felt it viscerally. Pay attention Lisa. Slow down when you can. Not only does our facial expression tell others how we are doing, so does our pace and our posture. Sometimes I don't need to look so darn serious and determined. Sometimes, I can just breathe, just take in this space in time.
I got a couple other reminders of this slower pace during our visit. In a shop on Tybee Island, the clerk reminded my husband (but said it more to me) as he sought to get moving, "You are on Tybee time...men are always in such a hurry." Tybee time. Try it.
And speaking of stores, as we went in and out of numerous shops in Savannah and at the beach, I was struck by the less aggressive greetings we got. I appreciated that they don't tend to be as pushy, as ready to make a sale. They greeted us warmly and then let us look around and come to them if we had questions.
I'm a scurrier and a hurrier too often. It's okay to push my pace when running, or when trying to get to the car in the rain, or when short on time and long on number of errands. But there are times it would be best for me to recall that strong feeling I had on the Savannah riverfront-there is something beautiful and quite purposeful as well about moving more slowly. I am grateful I witnessed it. Now, if I can learn to practice it more.
There is calm and opportunity one can only get with a slower pace.
I will be taking a blog break tomorrow. See you Monday!
As Darcy and I get set to head out for a long training run this morning, I am thinking about pace. Along Savannah’s waterfront on a sultry night last weekend, something became quite apparent to me. I walk fast. Sometimes too fast. What’s the hurry Lisa?
Darcy and I were sitting down taking a break and suddenly I noticed that the people....individuals, couples, and groups, were moving past us at a pace unfamiliar to me and many of my Midwestern counterparts. A steady, but unhurried pace. A pace that stirred less heat and humidity up.
I think it was more than the heat though. It was a real time lesson for me, the hurrier and scurrier. Our pace is a choice, though it can easily become habit too. The more acceptable pace in the South seems to be unhurried. Why push the pace when you don’t need to? Maybe it was the time of day. We slow down naturally in the evening if we have been on the go all day.
The word that came to my mind, and one I tend to associate with this region, was genteel. Polite, refined, respectable, well-mannered. We have plenty of that where I am from as well, but the South seems to take it to a different level.
This genteel pace we witnessed was obvious, and I felt it viscerally. Pay attention Lisa. Slow down when you can. Not only does our facial expression tell others how we are doing, so does our pace and our posture. Sometimes I don't need to look so darn serious and determined. Sometimes, I can just breathe, just take in this space in time.
I got a couple other reminders of this slower pace during our visit. In a shop on Tybee Island, the clerk reminded my husband (but said it more to me) as he sought to get moving, "You are on Tybee time...men are always in such a hurry." Tybee time. Try it.
And speaking of stores, as we went in and out of numerous shops in Savannah and at the beach, I was struck by the less aggressive greetings we got. I appreciated that they don't tend to be as pushy, as ready to make a sale. They greeted us warmly and then let us look around and come to them if we had questions.
I'm a scurrier and a hurrier too often. It's okay to push my pace when running, or when trying to get to the car in the rain, or when short on time and long on number of errands. But there are times it would be best for me to recall that strong feeling I had on the Savannah riverfront-there is something beautiful and quite purposeful as well about moving more slowly. I am grateful I witnessed it. Now, if I can learn to practice it more.
There is calm and opportunity one can only get with a slower pace.
I will be taking a blog break tomorrow. See you Monday!
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