Who is that man running alone at night? Why doesn’t he run during the day? Because the hours change. Because he can’t always choose the time. Because his day is filled with other people’s demands. And it turns out that he likes having other people make demands of him, but it also turns out that he needs time for himself. And so he spends it here, running faster than he has to, not because he’s afraid of this neighborhood or even sharing the street with cars, but because the faster he goes, the farther he goes, and to him, this is a numbers game. His children will ask him “how many miles was it?” And this is the game. He only ever competes against himself, and he usually wins. But not always. Some days he has to admit that it wasn’t many miles. Just enough to feel the wind on his face. Just enough to be glad to be home.
Roaming sounds aimless. It's a common misconception—that to roam is to wander without purpose. To have no idea where you’re going. No plan. No route. No end goal. That's not true. When you roam, you might not know where you'll end up, but you know where you're going. Because to roam is to move freely. Explore the back alleys of your city. Explore a trail, a pose, a circuit. Explore being awake at an hour that few others dare to see. You roam toward a horizon only you can see. You roam to find something in your own mind. You roam to discover. You roam to learn. You roam to live. You roam to move. You roam to be.
This fall, we celebrate your right to Roam. Your right to not have a place in mind. Your desire to explore. Your drive to get up early to see the sun rise, and your drive to keep moving until the sun goes down. Because you are meant to move and sometimes, you're meant to ROAM.