The couch can be a thoughtful place at 4:30am. I’ve been nursing an old shin injury for a couple weeks now, and I’m losing perspective. My internal alarm clock still chimes dark and early, but weeks 8, 9, and 10 have been on snooze. Instead of running through the pain, I decided some impact-free time off would be the wisest move. This not moving has been reflective and tedious.
The funny thing about running a 26.2 mile race is that there are plenty of moments where you lose perspective. It’s hard to visualize the race when you happen to feel winded at mile 5. And if at mile 13 you cross the half-way point 5 minutes earlier then your pace predicted, its morale building. Then fresh from heaven…a burst of energy at mile 18 could hint that the last 8.2 will be a cake walk. But wait, you spoke too soon, you’re doomed…the treacherous, hard wall at mile 21 just slowed you down to a side-cramping limp and blocked visions of the finish line. Pace can be an elusive thing for me. There were mornings on the sofa when I felt the caged energy of a gazelle, and if I could have only been out on the road, I’m sure I would have held a 7 minute mile. There were also mornings when a sore shin made running feel like an awkward and heavy 10 minute mile. Maybe pace was never meant to be predictable? Maybe it’s not really about pace at all, but rather perspective?
When I said that a sabbatical from marathon training has made me uneasy, my friends have quickly countered. My friends are relentlessly encouraging. This couch time, pondering if I’m digressing on the cushions or doing my body good, has probably been just what I needed. It’s been the equivalent of counter time, when you stare at a half-empty / half-full glass and decide which line to identify with. If we really were talking wine here, I’d go the half-empty route and ask for a refill, but since we’re talking running and life in general, I’ll go with half-full. A positive perspective has not always come quickly for me, but eventually I give in to it…in almost every area of my life.
Over beers and nachos the other night, my dear friend Kelly told me I need to start writing a book…now. I gave her a beer brave nod, and then we changed subjects. But before I could sleep away her tipsy suggestion, she sends me a sober, after midnight email with a plan for writing this book as well as suggested topics. Kelly is not the kind of woman you say no to. She’s the kind of energetic, accomplished woman who moves the world. When something isn’t working for her, she moves on. Like the lawyer she is, she investigates and confronts the threat of a challenge and remains positive till the end. I wish I had more of this optimism and openness when it comes to running and writing. Honestly though…talk about a long course, I can’t imagine writing a book. I’m just now a little bit proud of myself for journaling, allowing random sentences and thoughts to pop up in my notebook like weeds in an unkept garden. And I’m just now a little bit proud of myself for resisting the neurotic urge to pluck the bad sentences out . My perspective on writing is likely skewed by a lack of energy, time, and confidence, but it’s where I am right now. Surely, if J.K. Rowling were sitting on my couch at 4:30am, awaiting requests for pancakes and Tom and Jerry, she wouldn’t be such a prolific writer.
There’s a common one-upper argument among parents that has nothing to do with correctness and everything to do with perspective. I call it the “Who’s Had the Worst Day” argument. Who’s Had the Worst Day scene begins when Husband comes home from work to find his spot in the driveway cluttered with tricycles, the children’s sticky fingerprints all over his big screen TV, and Wife standing in the kitchen with a glass of white wine and macaroni and cheese stains on tee shirt (his tee shirt…the same one she woke up in this morning). Wife bets Husband her right arm that her day was worse than his. Husband ups the ante and bets his right and left arm that his day was worse than her bad day at home. Before the battle is won, both Husband and Wife are limbless, unable to hold onto the truth, much less each other. It’s a comical scenario, but the truth behind the chaos is that Husband and Wife aren’t enemies, but co laborers in a tirelessly demanding world. The truth could be obvious, but without changing vantage points, Husband and Wife relentlessly wager away the very things they need to be good partners and parents.
I’m not ready to forfeit optimism. Maybe a good perspective at the moment is: perspective can be relative. A 10 minute mile is fast when your shin is hurting; writing a book is only monumental when you keep putting it off, waiting for the right moment; finally, a hard day is any day you remain locked in your own little world (or chained to your couch, for that matter). In fact, if pace, productivity and good days are elusive, I need a permanent positive perspective (PPP). In the end a PPP is better than a PR.
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