my goodness.

With so many snippets of news and not-news whizzing by at breakneck speed and in all directions, I have no idea why we click on the links that we do.

Or don't.

Or whatever.

Sometimes the impetus is obvious, the mention of a person or feat of particular interest, a stunning image from an uber-exotic locale or a headline posing as fact simply too funny/stupid/unbelievable/sad to possibly be true.  It could be the potential of a rare performance of a favorite song by a beloved or forgotten band or the revisiting of a memorable movie scene that left you breathless on first watch and promises a repeat performance.

For me, it is often the voyeuristic lure of seeing better-runners-than-I racing through lush forests, over mountain passes or along desolate desert trails.

Other clips invite viewing for reasons less explicable, and while some turn out so disappointing as to beg an answer why they were clicked in the first place, there are others that prove more than just reward for the visit.

Like this one:

A friend shared this clip on Facebook this past Saturday and while I scrolled right past numerous other posts, there was something about this one that made me stop, press the play button and watch...raptly.

The ten minutes of wonder seem almost too perfect and may well have been scripted and directed.  I choose to think not and will make no effort to learn otherwise.  Even if someone was to spoil the fantasy by confirming that these two ladies were just actors in a modern ode to joy, my reaction shall remain the same.

What does it have do with running?  Not a damn thing and who cares?

I could contrive a connection, pointing out how the tale overlaps with the venturing into the unknown of trail running, the bonds formed by two strangers sharing a common challenging experience, and the tearful release of completing a race you weren't sure you were capable of finishing.

I could, but I won't.

Fiction or non, the story of An and Ria moved me by reminding me again how much we take life for granted, how blindly and brazenly we muscle past the subtle wonders of the world to get to the next bullet point on our hourly/daily/weekly agenda.

We're all so bored, depressed, stressed, angry, disappointed, empty, bored (did I already say that?), over it, anxious, longing, demanding...entitled to whatever it is we don't yet and may never have.

We've been there.  We know.  We've already seen that, heard that, tasted that.

What else you got?

We.  Want.  More.

Dammit.

But we HAVE so much and have for as long as we can possibly remember (if we even bother trying) and we've never really bothered to be happy or thankful for that.  We say we are...like clockwork...near the end of each November, just before we lay on the f#@#ing horn because some jackass had the nerve to "steal" the parking spot two whole spots closer than the one we had to settle for in the parking lot outside of CollossalRetaileroftheMoment a few minutes before the stroke of get-it-before-they-do midnight.

And I'm no different.

I want too.

I want to laugh like Ria on that roller coaster.

Deeply and genuinely.

I want to fly again for the first time and feel the excitement, the worry, the anticipation.  I want to look out the window and whisper "my goodness."  I want to gaze down through the clouds, wordlessly, and think "how can this possibly be?"

I want to topple over in the surf and get a wet bum.

And I want to acknowledge every second of the adventure as gift given and appreciatively received.

Wanting the same for my daughters, I sat them down beside me and we tagged along as An and Ria took off, laughed, became fast friends, and together explored the new world of Barcelona.

Lily and Piper Bea watched hushed, bright-eyed and fascinated while I thought of my good fortune to one day see them take their own first flights.

"My, oh my, oh my!"

Indeed.