More fun

I had every intention to go out and to just walk this morning.  I did.  I had that intention.  I piddled around most of the early morning not doing a thing.  It's amazing how I can sometimes wile away an amount of time and look back to realize I hadn't accomplished anything.  (Okay...maybe a load of laundry is something but the machine does the work).  So I knew I wanted to get outdoors.
I started out walking.  It was a good feeling.  I didn't have my music or sensor, no peppermint between my cheek and gums; just chapstick on my lips and cell phone and house keys in my pocket.  I walked my first mile stretching and feeling my leg muscles, hearing birds and cars and early morning lawn mowers.  Then I started running.  I thought, okay, I'll jog it out and go back to walking in a bit.  I never went back to walking but ran the rest of the way.  It felt good and I was happy.  It was fun.
I realized I had been thinking about the things I do and feeling a little out of sorts because of how I set such high expectations on myself.  Why can't I just do the things I want to do and not worry about it?  When I think about my running or my writing or even baking cookies I realize how much more I seem to want to push myself.  I don't just run, I want to do 10Ks, half or full marathons.  I don't just write here but I'm working on a book.  I don't just bake cookies but come up with crazy flavor profiles.
Something seems to happen to me while I'm walking.  I realize I want to run.  Or I want to write or bake.  Then I want to do it more or differently and well or I might as well just be walking. 
I guess I do it my way because it feels good and it makes me happy.
It's more fun.
TT