There’s a scene in Forrest Gump when everybody’s favorite purveyor of boxed-chocolate philosophy dramatically lifts himself up from a rocking chair, slowly walks off his front porch and takes off sprinting.
“That day, for no particular reason,” he recalled, “I decided to go for a little run.”
First, he ran to the end of his road. Next, he high-tailed it through his small town of Greensbow, Alabama, and continued through his county and across his state. From there, Gump headed to the Pacific Coast. He then left a Santa Monica pier and kept running in the other direction until he arrived at a lighthouse on the Atlantic Ocean shore.
“And so,” a woman eagerly listening to his story on a bus bench exclaimed, “you just ran!”
“Yeah,” Forrest responded, matter of factly.
As the story goes, Gump kept on running and running and running for years, criss-crossing America in an epic adventure, eventually gaining followers, inspiring people — “It happens” and “Have a nice day!” 🙂 — and attracting the curiosity of media members.
“I just felt like running,” he told reporters.
It’s not a perfect metaphor, but that same feeling happened to me earlier this year. [Continue reading]