Just before I threw on my running shoes, I fished my Garmin out of my bag, turned it on an placed it next to my hotel room window so it could pick up a satellite signal. I walked away and my Garmin buzzed itself right off the windowsill. That’s when I saw it: Low Battery. Crap-o-la. My plan was to run 5 miles this morning and since I’m in Raleigh, N.C. in unfamiliar surroundings, I can’t quite guestimate 5 miles. So I quickly devised a Plan B — I would run for an hour.

On went my trusty Ironman Timex watch and out the door I went. Lucky for me I could pick up a paved trail near my hotel and run on part of the Greenway system. I started my watch and decided to go nice, easy and steady. I have not run much distance at all this month and my goal for this particular workout was to run. For an hour. Steady and strong. The air temperature was pleasant, in the upper 50s, but the humidity was 94 percent and I felt that pretty quickly.

I started to be concerned about my two upcoming races, the Flower City Half Marathon and the trail marathon, but I turned my attention elsewhere. Today I was not running half marathon. I was not in my first trail marathon. I was running for an hour on the paved trails of Raleigh. The future would take care of itself, if I took care of today. So I let my concern pass through my overactive brain and got on to noticing that all the squirrels and bunny rabbits I saw on the trail kept turning their rear ends toward me. That’s just strange, right?

I have no idea what my pace was. I’m not sure how much distance I accumulated today. And for real I don’t care. For an hour I was engaged in doing things I love: exploring a new place, being outside, being active, challenging myself. Today, I wasn’t out there for a training plan or to get results in a race. Today, I was out running because it is one of the key ways in which I enter the world.