It's been two weeks since I've updated. I've survived the guilt of dropping out of another race. Okay, there was none.
I've got a bit of a confession to make:
I've been trying to be a well-rounded, normal, middle of the road, fence-sitting, pragmatist. And I hate it.
In Colorado, I was chasing a dream of some sort. It's no clearer now than then what that dream was, but it felt good to be chasing it. I often felt like a bird catching an unexpected tailwind on its migration. Telling exactly where and when inspiration would strike was impossible, but when it did, I felt like I was in the right place at the right time. All I've been able to say for certain, is that I ache to live an extraordinary life. To do things that I once thought were beyond my reach. To make it on less than others find comfortable. To uncover the redeeming qualities of our species that lie deep within myself and others.
Why does it all come back to running then?
Truthfully, I have no idea. It's a stupid, overly hyped hobby that has been bastardized by shallow displays of showmanship, narcissism and chest-thumping...or has it? My inner cynic dislikes the sport, and thinks I should get a life. My heart says, "Hey. Cynical douche. Stop being an asshole and follow your gut."
Why does it all come back to running?
Because it's life. You get what you put in, and some come by it easier than others. In a sea of many, great stories are plentiful. Most of them are real.
Anyway, back to the confession.
I've been telling myself to just go with the flow. Don't feel like running? Must be my body telling me to rest. Being as out of shape as ever and weighing 15lbs more than last summer tells me I've had just about enough rest for one year. It's time to push it some more. The cynical part of me looks down on those who are more committed, thinking they must be some sort of obsessive jackass who puts his family and friends out just to do the same mindless activity over and over. This, I think, is what keeps normal people normal. They like being normal. Save the hard work for those that have something to prove. "well-rounded" translates to "average at everything." The world is full of average people. That's sort of the definition, isn't it? There's nothing wrong with being a normal person. I just have a burning in my chest that won't let me be one, no matter how hard I try. Maybe it's just gas.
Maybe "normal" is a mask we all wear, and nobody is normal.
All existential bullshit aside, I doubt running is my all-inclusive trip to self-actualization. Right now, in a life of hoop-jumping for physical therapy school, and a financial situation that has me blogging from my childhood bedroom, it's all I've got.
The truth is, you just can't do the extraordinary by being normal.
My inner "obsessed runner weirdo" will rise again.
The inspired blogger isn't my enemy. It's the apathetic guy that exists between posts.