I used to love rainy days because they meant guilt free lazing in bed watching television all day. Then I started running. I will run in the rain, but I will also use the rain as an excuse not to run. Since I have not run in a month, it seems I don't really need any extra excuses not to run.
I thought about running this weekend, a lot. But I couldn't get myself to put on my running gear. The truth is I was scared. Although I kept telling myself, like I always tell myself, that I could take it easy. That I could do my short 6 mile loop or even that I could just run for 30 minutes and not worry about mileage. I did believe that I would shorten the distance and time, I knew I wasn't lying to myself about that. I also knew that I would take it easy. However, I doubted that any of it would actually be easy. Having not run in four weeks and not even running regularly for the whole year, I knew that when I got down the street, there would be pain.
I am used to pain. I am not usually afraid of pain. But maybe it is not the pain I am avoiding. It is the frustration and disappointment in myself. I feel like a fraud. I used to be a runner. It consumed every aspect of my life. Every purchase I made was running related. My MySpace had more running friends than not. Every blog was about running. Every dream was centered around running. I took a semester off of school for training and racing purposes. I was obsessed, but it was an obsession that gave me strength, goals, and pride. Running gave me control and freedom. Independence.
Now as I pursue my metalsmithing and my knitting, I wonder if I can be as proud of my artistic endeavors. I guess the answer is no. What does this say about me, that I felt more pride in my physical pursuits than my creative ones? Is it purely vanity? No, I can't reduce running to that.
Both these aspects challenge me, running and art. Both take sacrifice and emotion. Both are all at once solitary and social. Both provide a sense of hard earned accomplishment. But running gave me a different sense of pride because success was not reliant on a tangible item. With art, I have to create a "thing" to prove my worth. I have to use outside source materials to reflect my abilities. With running the tools are all inside of me. Even some of the challenges are caused by my brain. With running, I am the beginning and the end product.
Maybe it is vanity. I can accept that. Just like I can accept that I can't wear high heels anymore because it ruins my training runs. Just like I can accept that I will never have pretty toenails ever again. Just like I can accept that all my race pictures will feature a Breathe-Right strip nose. Just like I can accept that sometimes I have to eat for fuel instead of enjoyment. Just like I can accept all of the people that tell me that I am crazy for running marathons or running period. Just like I can accept the foul porta-potties I will have to use before, during, and after a race. Just like I can accept that one day I might have to squat behind a bush. Just like I can accept the bitter cold, rain, and wind on what historically should have been a sunny but cool race day. Just like I can accept a hilly race that I hadn't prepared for. Just like I can accept the pain that I will have to push through on the last seemingly neverending hill of a hard race. Just like I can accept the tears I can't help when I cross the finish line of that hard race. You can call me vain, as long as you call me a runner.
I thought about running this weekend, a lot. But I couldn't get myself to put on my running gear. The truth is I was scared. Although I kept telling myself, like I always tell myself, that I could take it easy. That I could do my short 6 mile loop or even that I could just run for 30 minutes and not worry about mileage. I did believe that I would shorten the distance and time, I knew I wasn't lying to myself about that. I also knew that I would take it easy. However, I doubted that any of it would actually be easy. Having not run in four weeks and not even running regularly for the whole year, I knew that when I got down the street, there would be pain.
I am used to pain. I am not usually afraid of pain. But maybe it is not the pain I am avoiding. It is the frustration and disappointment in myself. I feel like a fraud. I used to be a runner. It consumed every aspect of my life. Every purchase I made was running related. My MySpace had more running friends than not. Every blog was about running. Every dream was centered around running. I took a semester off of school for training and racing purposes. I was obsessed, but it was an obsession that gave me strength, goals, and pride. Running gave me control and freedom. Independence.
Now as I pursue my metalsmithing and my knitting, I wonder if I can be as proud of my artistic endeavors. I guess the answer is no. What does this say about me, that I felt more pride in my physical pursuits than my creative ones? Is it purely vanity? No, I can't reduce running to that.
Both these aspects challenge me, running and art. Both take sacrifice and emotion. Both are all at once solitary and social. Both provide a sense of hard earned accomplishment. But running gave me a different sense of pride because success was not reliant on a tangible item. With art, I have to create a "thing" to prove my worth. I have to use outside source materials to reflect my abilities. With running the tools are all inside of me. Even some of the challenges are caused by my brain. With running, I am the beginning and the end product.
Maybe it is vanity. I can accept that. Just like I can accept that I can't wear high heels anymore because it ruins my training runs. Just like I can accept that I will never have pretty toenails ever again. Just like I can accept that all my race pictures will feature a Breathe-Right strip nose. Just like I can accept that sometimes I have to eat for fuel instead of enjoyment. Just like I can accept all of the people that tell me that I am crazy for running marathons or running period. Just like I can accept the foul porta-potties I will have to use before, during, and after a race. Just like I can accept that one day I might have to squat behind a bush. Just like I can accept the bitter cold, rain, and wind on what historically should have been a sunny but cool race day. Just like I can accept a hilly race that I hadn't prepared for. Just like I can accept the pain that I will have to push through on the last seemingly neverending hill of a hard race. Just like I can accept the tears I can't help when I cross the finish line of that hard race. You can call me vain, as long as you call me a runner.
December 15, 2008 at 12:59pm
Pete Futa
December 15, 2008 at 1:14pm
The reason they are in the same category for me is that they are obsessions. Metalsmithing took over running since I was at the studio after class, sometimes until midnight and on Saturdays. I'm even obsessed enough to try registering for Intermediate Metalsmithing in the Spring.
Now, instead of running, I've been knitting. All my purchases are yarn related. All my free ideas run towards patterns. I spent this whole weekend knitting; I only stopped for food and potty breaks.
Biologically, I can just reduce my food intake to keep my weight down, as I have been doing basically all year. I know that eventually it will backfire or become a problem. At that time, I'm sure running will take over. ... Read More
I enjoy creating art. However, I think running creates art in me.
Now, instead of running, I've been knitting. All my purchases are yarn related. All my free ideas run towards patterns. I spent this whole weekend knitting; I only stopped for food and potty breaks.
Biologically, I can just reduce my food intake to keep my weight down, as I have been doing basically all year. I know that eventually it will backfire or become a problem. At that time, I'm sure running will take over. ... Read More
I enjoy creating art. However, I think running creates art in me.
I play guitar and piano too (without any material reward) but I do that out of psychological necessity.