When my in-laws came over this afternoon I went upstairs and crashed on my bed. Usually I am speeding out the door to Target or a coffee shop, but last night was rough and I seriously could hardly keep my eyes open. But I'm never able to fall asleep during the day and it was so sunny out that my whole bedroom was glowing and I kept thinking: oh, go put on your stupid shoes and go for a run. So I did.
And I was damn proud of myself, because I don't run that often these days. Between the broken treadmill and the rain and the fact that I 1) do not own a double jogging stroller and 2) would not go for runs with a double jogging stroller if I had one, I now run maybe one to two times a week. Ah well. I do a bit of Exercise TV yoga, a Shred here and there and I finally bought a Wii Fit and I play around with that every once in a while. I justify my marked decrease in exercise with the fact that I am maintaining my weight/fitness just fine (as evidence I give you my Wii Fit age: 31 - WOOT! Validation from a video game!) and I just don't give myself a hard time about it. Whatever. I still fit into my pants.
What I AM missing are the jolts of creativity I have while running. I don't know if this happens for anyone else (although Jen's mention of it one day is what made me realize it in the first place) but I THINK better after I've gone running. And not necessarily for a long or fast run. It seems just the action of going outside, moving my body in a mindless way and giving my thoughts some free space offers up some excellent writing material. I mean, I've been all househousehousityhouse lately (I'M SORRY) and partly because I can't think of anything else to write about. But a half hour of huffing and puffing and I've got ninety-seven posts brewing.
And it's not just blog posts. I finally busted out that sorry excuse for a first draft the other day and read through my first chapter. And then I cried. You guys, I will never be a Real Writer. I was so disappointed with myself and my poor writing and my embarrassing style and how I was TELLING and not SHOWING and oh God why am I even trying. But a half hour of huffing and puffing and I feel like I want to try again. Like at least one of those paragraphs might be salvageable.
When I'm running I think about writing. I don't know what other people think about, I don't know if that's weird. But I think about high school and the high schoolers in my first draft. I think about what I want to say on the Catholic blog. I think about first person vs. third. I think about all the bits and pieces of my life and how I would narrate them. I listen to music - the only time I get to listen to music I like - and let the lyrics filter through my narratives, shaping them, emphasizing them.
And then I make it to my last block and I realize that even though I hate running I made it through another neighborhood jog and go me and thank goodness the in-laws are still here so I bring the laptop upstairs and write undisturbed.