It was a mild week in February when I started running again.
Well, let’s be honest, it’s more like walking and slightly faster walking. The fitness app on my phone registers it as walking, which is always slightly depressing because I’m definitely NOT WALKING when I’m out there, but whatever.
The first week is often the hardest, so I was lucky that I started my workouts on unseasonably warm days. By the second week though I was bundled up and running in biting winds. By week three, I was running through snow. I am now at 13 workouts (beginning of week five) of an eight-week program with the goal of running a 5K, and it’s no exaggeration to say more than half have been in some kind of rain, snow or cold weather. My most recent workout was in a cold spring downpour.
My shirt says “Chase Your Dreams.” I wish my dreams would pick some better weather.
I almost never want to leave the porch when I face the weather. I whimper. I groan.
And then I think about how far I’ve come and I go for it.
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I’ve been a little stuck with the writing lately. There’s always something else, it seems, to distract me. Some of it is necessary. Some of it is not. This is part of what I feared when I started working part time in January. Before that, I had what I thought was an ideal schedule for writing, meaning my days were mostly free and I could spend them how I wanted.
Conditions, it would seem, were perfect for writing.
Except they weren’t really.
Sure, I churned out a lot of words in those days. I blogged regularly. I submitted a couple of pieces to other publications. I wrote a short story to give away to blog subscribers.
But I still found a lot of other things to do. Netflix. Coffee dates. Volunteer work. Hardly ever did I devote the kind of time to writing that I imagined I could.
So, it’s odd that now, when I have less hours in the day to write, I still have time for it. I may not be blogging every idea that comes into my head (that’s definitely true) or writing a ton of articles but I’m still writing.
Even though conditions are not perfect.
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Sometimes I think about where I would be if I had waited for the weather to be perfect before I started working out again. I don’t have to think too hard. I would be stuck somewhere in week 2 slogging along trying to train for a 5K in May and running out of weeks to get it done.
Instead, I’m more than six weeks away from race day with less than half of the program to finish. I could skip a workout when the weather gets rough but I’ve built up some momentum and I want to keep it. The workouts are getting harder, but I don’t want to give up all the progress. The same is true with writing. I have a lot of words in a lot of different forms in my computer files. Too much to give up.
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I’m easily discouraged, though.
I see other runners out on the sidewalks or hear casual talk of regular 3- and 4-mile runs. I think about how I shuffle through my workout with sweat, tears and aching muscles and wonder why I’m even out there doing this running thing. I don’t want to be a marathoner. I’m not aiming for the Olympics. I kind of sort of like running and I want to be healthier. But I’m not sure I’ll ever be trim or fast.
It’s not hard to criticize myself before I actually get out there and run. When my feet are pounding the pavement and I’m cresting small hills, when the number of consecutive minutes of running increases and I’m doing it without walking–those are the times I feel like I’m a runner, like I belong out there.
And writing is not much different. When I’m not writing, I’m jealous of all the other writers I know and the words they’re putting on pages. I’m convinced they have the perfect conditions for writing, so of course they can do that work. I look at my measly offerings of words and wonder if I will ever have what it takes to join the ranks. (Of what, I’m not even sure anymore.)
But when I’m writing, most of those doubts fade. The words connect with each other and sometimes readers and it suddenly doesn’t matter how much I’m writing or how fast. Regularly doing the writing is all that matters, and it doesn’t make a difference if my words are banged out in an hour after work or over half a Saturday or at 5 a.m.
Just doing it is what matters.
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There is no such thing as the perfect time or the perfect conditions.
What a revelation, right? I feel like this is an obvious conclusion, but it’s taken me some time to see it.
Whether it’s running or writing or something else entirely, I can’t always wait for the perfect time or the perfect conditions. Sometimes it’s going to be sunny and mild. Other times I’ll be cursing the wind for daring to gust so much my cheeks turn pink. Sometimes I’ll start with sunshine and end in a downpour.
But every time, I just have to do it. Whatever it is.
Because if I wait until everything is perfect, it won’t happen.
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There’s a big difference between the perfect time and the right time, and this theory does not apply to every thing in every season. The time for me to go back to work was neither perfect nor right when my kids were less than school age, and the time for running was neither right nor perfect when my back was spasming. Do not let this post be your ticket to a guilt trip. You do what you need to do.
But let it be a question you consider: Am I waiting for the perfect time to do something that only requires the right time? And is now the right time?
I cannot answer that for you. And if you want to share your answer in the comments below, I would love to encourage you at whatever time it is, for whatever goal you have.
