I ran a 10K this morning up in Flushing Meadows Corona Park in Queens. It wasn't my best race, given that even by 8am in the morning when the race started the temperature was already at 86 degrees, and I'm one hell of a sweater. Granted, I'm not sure anybody ran their best race today, since I finished pretty well in the pack. It's actually my fastest 10K so far, unless you count any given 10 kilometers from the 15K I ran back in April when the temperature was actually reasonable and my miles went by 30 seconds faster. (It feels weird to be measuring distance in miles when a race is in kilometers, but that's how we do things in this country, apparently)
Like I mentioned last time, running's been taking up a lot of my time in the past few years, and that's time that I could be spending writing and revising novels or short stories or anything else that I might be able to find a publisher for. Sometimes it feels kind of selfish, since running (or at least running in races) is really something that I'll only ever really be doing for myself (unless I volunteer for a charity like Team for Kids, which is something I've been meaning to look into for a while now). My writing is a hobby that I do in the hopes of someday reaching an audience, which might not be the most noble or useful cause in the world, but I'd certainly feel good about making somebody else's day a little more interesting.
So am I going to have to choose between the two, or sacrifice running in order to have enough time to focus on my writing? No, I don't think I'm gonna do that. I can already see me forcing myself to stare at a blank page endlessly during a dry period, trying to will creatures to life that just won't come. Couldn't I spend that time better by running? I mean, it's not like I'm constantly thinking up story ideas when I'm out jogging around the neighborhood, but I don't listen to music while I do it, either, and I think that ends up having a pretty calming effect on my mind. I need that calmness: that break from the responsibilities of my job and my household and my family. I mean, I enjoy all three of those parts of my life, but sometimes I'm seized with an anxiety that I can't quite quantify when I'm surrounded by them for too long at a time. There may be medications for such a feeling, but I've always worried about the effect that psychology-altering drugs might have on my creativity and my personality. As long as I can run though, or go lift some weights, or bang away at the piano, I have an immediate outlet for that anxiety. Writing provides that sometimes, but the effect isn't always immediate, and there's often some higher-level problem solving involved. I need things in my life that I can just do, finish, and then look back on and say, "I did this!" without feeling like I'm wasting my time (which may be part of the reason I've drifted away from video games over the years... That's a story for another time though).
So I'll keep running, and I'll keep writing. The writing may come more slowly, but at least I have my daily entries to give me something under my belt pretty often. In fact, I just signed up for the monthly challenge for July on 750 Words, where I need to write the titular number of words every day of the month in order to win. Gamification has worked out well for me in the past (thanks, Fitocracy), so I'm hoping it'll work for my writing as well. Granted, I've tried and failed at one of these challenges before, but I've been on a good streak lately (with the exception of one very busy day), and I'm hoping to continue it for a good while longer. There are badges on 750 words for as many as 365 consecutive days, but I'm not gonna hold myself to a mountain quite that tall just yet. I'm just going to take this one day at a time, and see how far it gets me.
I'm a better runner than I was last year, and I think I'm a better writer than I was a year ago too, although obviously the second of these claims is a lot harder to quantify. In both cases I'm pretty sure that I can get better if I just keep plugging away at it.
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