Writing and running go hand in hand for me. Each is proof that the other is possible. It's either sit down and do it or get up and do it. Currently, I'm doing the former. As I do so, our neighbor's pool filter grinds what sounds like its siren song to mechs. It's a brain piercing noise. It's not a constant hum that eventually becomes part of the background. It's an ever-changing grind and whir that forces the brain to listen, like an unwelcome house guest who snores. I've been putting off having a conversation with these neighbors because nervous about confrontation, but it's time. It's ruining our peace.
But running. It requires a great deal of faith to push through the shit parts that hurt and feel futile. "I can't do this. I'm not a runner. I hate everything. It's not worth it."
And writing. Same faith. "I can't do this. I'm not a real writer. This sentence sucks. Who cares? It's not worth it."
Ignore those voices. I have to remind myself to do that.
Because sometimes, you get out there on the road or on the screen and you feel untethered, free and easy and loose and you just want to keep going. You keep pushing onward and it feels like you just leveled up into someone better than you.
Those moments. Those are the ones that help me ignore those voices and keep me going through the shit parts.
Even the shit parts have their purpose.