It’s telling that the two parts of my life that I find myself constantly making comparisons between—writing and running—are both feeling tender and hard and on the precipice of *something* right now.
With running, it’s trying to get my legs under me as I try to gain fitness. With writing, it’s trying to get my habits in line with my desire and trust myself in the work.
Both entail some structure and a bit of life logistics. I’m so good at this part. I can move colored boxes around on my Google calendar like nobody’s business. I can allot everything the appropriate amount of time, from how long I need to block to run five miles, to when I can carve out an hour for writing.
Both also entail a great deal of bullshit in my brain when it comes time to do the thing my calendar says. The thing I want to do, which is the most infuriating part. It’s no wonder that this sort of brain activity would affect both running and writing.
What does this look like? About the time I am scheduled for a run or a writing session, my brain starts saying, “This doesn’t seem safe! You might fail! You might feel slow, your body might hurt, you might write a bunch of junk, you’ll never get published, you’ll never be as fit as you were when you were 25, what’s the point? Let’s just keep doing what’s comfortable and answer those emails and clean out that closet.”
This translates into that feeling I think we all know well, of not feeling like it, feeling like I’m being lazy, feeling like I’m a failure that I couldn’t “just do it.” I was reminded of this internal wiring last week, when I participated in the highly valuable “Writers Resistance Bootcamp” led by Monica Hay.
Now, I’m not starting from absolute zero. I’ve been doing more writing since February than I had for a while leading up to that. I am good at setting boundaries on my times so that, logistically, I have the time for writing in my life. So why did I think I needed a bootcamp?
Apart from being really good at procrastinating by taking classes, something about the prospect of being in a group of people who “get it,” being reminded of how our brains work to protect us that easily slips into sabotage, and having accountability seemed attractive to me at this point in time. I think I was looking for an infusion of energy, instead of continuing to second guess myself.
I think it’s the same reason it’s helpful to show up to the track every Tuesday night for the team workouts, even if I’m not doing them. I can warm up with others who “get” this whole running thing. When they start the workout, I feel energized to complete my easy run, knowing it’ll eventually get me to where I want to be. Plus, I can find others who are running easy, for whatever reason, and have solidarity in the journey of improving our fitness.
The bootcamp did energize me in the way I’d hoped, and I’ve returned to valuing a goal of just “touching” my novel project every day. That can mean five minutes of staring at the Scrivener document or doing a character sketch, or it can mean churning out 1,000 words. Like, it doesn’t have to be a Big Deal in order to be valuable. I don’t have to have a freaking breakthrough every time I sit down to write.
Same with running. Right now everything feels creaky and slow and awkward, but even if I turn around after a mile, the starting is where the work is done. I’m not going to have a freaking breakthrough every time I go out for a run.
Once I’ve started—either writing or running—I remember that I’m safe and that I like it and inevitably go farther than maybe I expected. See, brain, this isn’t so bad! Look at how pretty it is outside, look at what your legs are capable of, look at this stuff you’re figuring out through these words, words that didn’t fucking exist until you just wrote them down. This is magic!
And if I don’t keep going, if today is just shitty and hard and I go take a nap, that’s okay too.
And there are others out there feeling exactly the same way. People I can ask to run with or write with and feel that solidarity even if our end goals are completely different. People I can ask to keep me accountable for that strength session or chapter even if we’re at completely different places in our process. People to remind me that five words are better than no words, five steps are better than zero steps, and that I’m a runner, I’m a writer, regardless of measurable output.
People are how we get through this life of ours, these pursuits of ours. Coming from an introvert, you know it has to be true :)
This alinea = exactly me
"Apart from being really good at procrastinating by taking classes, something about the prospect of being in a group of people who “get it,” being reminded of how our brains work to protect us that easily slips into sabotage, and having accountability seemed attractive to me at this point in time. I think I was looking for an infusion of energy, instead of continuing to second guess myself."
Loved it.
One word. One sentence. One paragraph. One chapter... coming from one amazing writer. 😊