Some days I’m really resentful of this blog. When I first conceived of the idea to approach writing with the same discipline I apply to marathon training, I believed it could be only a win-win situation. I would have a written record of training and hopefully hone my skills at the same time. Since I’m rarely at a loss for words, I didn’t account for sometimes feeling like I have nothing to say. Or worse- the dread of knowing I have a lot to express but not wanting to because its too overwhelming to go there. Also, I can be very petulant. I don’t want to do something if I don’t feel like it.

I need more than the two hands I have to count the number of times I’ve flaked out on things to which I had committed. There have been numerous jobs, educational opportunities and personal endeavors that I began full of fervor and good intentions until I decided they were no longer worth it. This inability to follow through is one of my most unfavorable qualities. In fact, I’ve been beating myself up over it for years… and years… and years. In this time, I’ve done a lot of self-reflective work and have several theories about what has made me this way: 1) the state of being a Generation X-er, 2) brainwashing at the hands of the apathetic grunge bands I used to follow, and 3) assuming way too many adult responsibilities in my formative years.

Whatever the reason(s) I am inclined to break self-imposed obligations, I suppose are not so important as the solution. I admire dedication and perseverance in others, not flakiness. I often wonder if people who exude these qualities have always been that way or were they once erratic whackos like me? Knowing (you have a character flaw) is half the battle. While striving for perfection is impossible, remaining inconsistent and fleeting are not options either. This is not the kind of person I want to be. So on automatic pilot I go for 7 mile training run because if you give it (too) much thought, what’s the point of anything?

Probably because I am keeping this blog, I am reminded daily of how much of my psyche is employed in training. I think I was first drawn to endurance running because I mistakenly believed that being so physical would offer some respite from thought. (Yes, I was a philosophy minor a million years ago.) I love the idea of existing on such a basic level- run, eat, sleep, repeat. Somewhere along the way, I’ve become addicted to the pure carnality of movement, perspiration, exhaustion and starvation only achievable through running long and hard. But because the mind and body are not mutually exclusive in operation, my brain always taxis along for the ride run.

Reading it back, I’m surprised how cerebral this post is for a non-rest day. I really did run 7 miles which sped by as I sifted through all of these thoughts, and more. Obviously, I’ve also recorded said thoughts although I didn’t feel like doing so, satisfied for now with whom I aspire to be.