The Chase: A Dance of Desire and Distance

I don’t know when it started, but there I was—running. Not because I was late for something (though I often am), but because someone was running from me. And yet, every so often, they’d glance back. A small, fleeting moment, but enough to remind me that the chase wasn’t one-sided.

It’s like this strange game we play in relationships, isn’t it? One person runs, and the other chases. But what if the one running isn’t really trying to escape? What if they just want to see if you’re still following? If you’re still there, ready to make the effort, to catch up and close the distance.

Chasing someone who’s running from you feels a bit like trying to catch a shadow. You never quite reach them, but you’re so invested in the race, you don’t even notice how much distance has grown between the two of you. But then—there it is—the glance. A brief, almost imperceptible look over the shoulder. A reminder that they know you’re still there, running after them, heart racing with every step. It’s a dance, isn’t it? A waltz of pursuit and retreat.

But why do we do this? Why chase after someone who seems determined to stay just out of reach? Is it about the thrill of the chase? The hope that if we run hard enough, we’ll be able to close the gap and finally catch them? Or is it about the desire to be wanted, to know that someone, somewhere, is looking back to see if we’re still in pursuit?

I used to think the chase was a game of power. One person in control, the other always running. But what if it’s not about control? What if it’s about connection? The person running isn’t running from us—they’re just testing our commitment to the connection. Will we still chase after them when they make it difficult? Will we keep going even when they show us just enough to make us wonder, Why am I doing this?

Maybe, just maybe, they’re waiting for us to stop. To acknowledge that we’ve been chasing them for so long, but we don’t need to anymore. That we’ve figured out the game, and it’s not the chase that matters—it’s the destination. But then again, what if they need to see how far we’ll go? How much of ourselves we’re willing to invest in them? How much we’re willing to want them?

I don’t know the answer. Maybe there isn’t one. But as I keep running, I can’t help but wonder—will they ever stop to see if I’m still there, chasing them? Or will the chase always be the thing that keeps us just out of reach?

But here’s the thing—maybe it’s not the destination we’re after. Maybe it’s the chase itself. And if that's the case, I guess I’ll just keep running.