Still Here
I haven't hit the lottery, been hit by a car, joined the Foreign Legion, or come down with pneumonia.
I haven't received my long-awaited MacArthur Genius Grant or that massive advance from the publisher for my forthcoming bestseller or had the option on my screenplay picked up (in large part because I haven't written a screenplay).
I haven't won any long distance races--or short ones--though Sunday I'm going to run in my first race in more than 25 years (a half marathon) and I'm very nervous about it.
My children are still beautiful and brilliant and contentious and surly and loving. My wife is still everything I could ask for.
In short, nothing much has changed since I last posted anything to this blog. Through the running, I have confirmed to myself that I can stick with something, even if no one else (besides my wife) cares much whether I do it or not. Sometimes I find myself running quarter-mile intervals at 6 a.m. and I'm both proud that I'm out there without any prompting and puzzled that I'm bothering. But I've pushed myself through, and that's been the best part of running again.
My point of difficulty remains my writing (which accounts for the lack of new posts). It may be that I can only attend to one discipline at a time, but I hope that isn't so. I hope that what I've learned about engaging in what you love without expectation or ambition, with only the pleasure of doing it, will spill over now into my putting words on the page--or on the computer screen.
I'm starting slowly again, just as I did with the exercise. I literally walked in December, in the winter darkness of early mornings, before I jogged, slowly, then ran. Yesterday, I put in 12 miles which is more than I've gone in a single run since high school.
The trick for me is to let that lesson sink in, to let myself go slowly, very, very slowly. But however long it takes, I'm still here. I'm still at it.
I haven't received my long-awaited MacArthur Genius Grant or that massive advance from the publisher for my forthcoming bestseller or had the option on my screenplay picked up (in large part because I haven't written a screenplay).
I haven't won any long distance races--or short ones--though Sunday I'm going to run in my first race in more than 25 years (a half marathon) and I'm very nervous about it.
My children are still beautiful and brilliant and contentious and surly and loving. My wife is still everything I could ask for.
In short, nothing much has changed since I last posted anything to this blog. Through the running, I have confirmed to myself that I can stick with something, even if no one else (besides my wife) cares much whether I do it or not. Sometimes I find myself running quarter-mile intervals at 6 a.m. and I'm both proud that I'm out there without any prompting and puzzled that I'm bothering. But I've pushed myself through, and that's been the best part of running again.
My point of difficulty remains my writing (which accounts for the lack of new posts). It may be that I can only attend to one discipline at a time, but I hope that isn't so. I hope that what I've learned about engaging in what you love without expectation or ambition, with only the pleasure of doing it, will spill over now into my putting words on the page--or on the computer screen.
I'm starting slowly again, just as I did with the exercise. I literally walked in December, in the winter darkness of early mornings, before I jogged, slowly, then ran. Yesterday, I put in 12 miles which is more than I've gone in a single run since high school.
The trick for me is to let that lesson sink in, to let myself go slowly, very, very slowly. But however long it takes, I'm still here. I'm still at it.
posted by A Pilgrim at 6:19 AM
1 Comments:
good luck this weekend, my friend. run in love, light, and peace - that's all that matters. not time, not form -- just Be There.
and if you want it to, the lessons learned from training WILL carry into your wordlife. that energy can travel, and will only grow stronger the farther it reaches.
peace - c.
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