Running, Writing, and Gratitude

Building on the last entry that I wrote, a few more thoughts.

 A passage from Haruki Murakami's memoir about running (thanks, JM!):

No matter how much long-distance running might suit me, of course there are days when I feel kind of lethargic and don't want to run. Actually, it happens a lot. On days like that, I try to think of all kinds of plausible excuses to slough it off. Once, I interviewed the Olympic runner Toshihiko Seko, just after he retired from running... I asked him, "Does a runner at your level ever feel like you'd rather not run today, like you don't want to run and would rather just sleep in?" He stared at me and then, in a voice that made it abundantly clear how stupid he thought the question was, replied, "Of course. All the time!" (p. 45-46)

One of the (many) challenging aspects of writing involves my tendency to compare myself - and inevitably come off worse for the comparison. And there are at least two kinds of comparison at work. One is the comparison between who I think I am right now, right here and the person I think I'm supposed to be. And that gap often feels huge and insurmountable and ultimately quite discouraging. More on this in a moment. But the other kinds of comparison is with other people: I'll scan CVs and websites of colleagues or potential colleagues or just random writers and be consumed with this sense of having done something wrong, that I'm not doing enough, that I could never do enough.

And there's a long complicated genealogy to that feeling - that's a story for a different time and a different place.

But I suppose being aware of that feeling is why Murakami's memoir (and I suspect this is why JM recommended it to me after the last post) resonates with me in the way that it does. First, it makes visible the anxiety and lack of motivation in even the best and most accomplished. And just reading about that in other people makes the anxiety and lack of motivation in me a little more understandable. But the second thing that Murakami's memoir does really effectively is say: Writing is not talent, it's not inspiration - it's a repetitive, regular practice.

The other thing I've been thinking about this morning (while finishing a run!) involved that first kind of comparison: Between the who I am right now and the who I think I should be. I think those comparisons are important - after all, they're a key part of goal-setting and planning. But there's a fine line for me between using that future me as motivation and then finding that future me is just yelling at me the entire time: I'M SO DISAPPOINTED IN YOU. Why is future me so disappointed in present me? That's also a story for a different time and a different place.

But the lesson of the run this morning (two thumbs way way way up for the Thank You runs on Nike Run Club): Thank the you that started the run and thank the you that finished the run and thank the you that wants to get back out and run again. I rarely start my morning writing with a similar act of gratitude and I almost never end any writing with that act of gratitude - but maybe I could.

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