Field Note No. 6 - Run Like George

You thought the tortoise and the hare was a run for the money. Or that the mouse and the lion had the market cornered on motivational fables. Cozy up for this lesson from the backyard, the coffee table, and a charcoal Labrador with questionable judgment.

Most dogs are born to run, breed dependent of course. George, our charcoal Lab, believes it is his spiritual gift. The only exception is when he performs that slow paw gesture from under the coffee table that translates to something like, “Hard pass,” complete with a tired roll of the eyes. But most mornings and most evenings he is ready.

The trouble is that both of those walks happen in the dark as winter presses in and the shortest day of the year rushes toward us. Tonight was no different. I stepped onto the porch, clicked on the bright flashlight, and swept it across the backyard looking for eyes peering back. There were plenty. Five or seven deer had settled themselves under the old oaks, bathing in acorns. Old farmers say a heavy acorn year means a hard winter coming. Caterpillars with extra black stripes apparently agree. It must be true.

Before I could think more about caterpillars, George launched. His claws dug into the deck, he missed most of the stairs, and he landed in the yard with the springiness of a baby carriage. He tore off across the field toward the gap in the pasture fence. The deer turned white tail and sailed out of the beam of light. George followed, then vanished behind the oaks. The thumping of his feet faded to a soft patter swallowed by the dark. Somewhere out there a muffled bark carried back. It sounded like, “…and stay out.”

George does not run for his life the way a startled deer does. That reminded me of an old management cliché from the eighties. The one about the lion and the gazelle waking up each morning in the desert. Both run because their lives depend on it. Motivational posters hung that story in every hallway for a decade.

That story never felt right to me. It frames work as either predator or prey. Win or lose. Catch or be caught. Most of us do not wake up feeling like lions or gazelles. We wake up like people with ordinary jobs and ordinary responsibilities. And sometimes, yes, with an ordinary Lab whose idea of purpose is to chase anything that moves.

George runs because he enjoys it. He runs because he still can. He is not nearly as fast as he used to be. He catches almost nothing. But he runs well. He does his job. And when he returns, satisfied, he takes care of business, eats what was not chased, and settles back under the coffee table as if he personally secured the border.

There is a lesson buried in that dark yard. What motivates your work each morning? Do you feel more like prey than predator? Or could you let yourself be a little more like a Labrador who runs for the sheer joy of running. Not for survival. Not for fear. But because the body still works, the legs still move, and the world is still worth crossing while you have the strength to cross it.

Not a bad day.