I pay my taxes. I hardly ever get a ticket. I generally abide by the law.
I do my best to not offend. I bathe most of the time. I'm generally pretty civilized.
I appreciate the comforts and conveniences that modern, civilized life affords. Getting a chilled beverage anytime I want never gets old. I love streaming videos on my laptop.
But, after a day filled with conveniences, climate controlled spaces, and innumerable comforts, I sometimes get uneasy. I get a bit antsy. It wasn't that long ago that I did without all of these things.
I was once a wild man. I was once a knuckle dragger who roamed far and wide for all I needed. Everything was a struggle.
Every meal was hard fought. Every drop of water I drank was possibly my last. There were no chilled beverages to be found.
The caveman life was devoid of the comforts and conveniences I have today. It was a tough, hard life. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.
The caveman was mangy, smelly, and not very eloquent, but he had other things going for him. The caveman was tough. He was the personification of grit.
He had to be tough. He had to have grit in order to survive. Without the aforementioned, the caveman likely never would have knuckledragged his way into a climate controlled condominium.
When I run, I honor the caveman. I pay homage to the tough troglodyte I once was who endured, who weathered the countless inconveniences and discomforts life presented every day. He never quit because death was likely the result if he did.
As wonderful as my civilized life may be, chilled beverages and streaming videos can never take the place of fresh air, the smell of eucalyptus, and the thrill of adventure the outdoors provides.
The caveman knows this. He craves this. Me running a few miles each day is the least I can do to honor the mangy, smelly, grunting barely human beast that kept hope for humans alive.
I head out without headphones, watches, or any real knowledge of how far I'm going or exactly where I am going. It's how the caveman runs. I run because I am a caveman.