Over the past year, a plethora of life changing events have occurred, providing me with an overflowing chalise of writing material. However, despite endless thoughts and intentions of cracking open my computer and composing "masterpieces", I felt neither motivated nor inspired. I have, for quite some time, attributed my lack of fire to stress, exhaustion, and an endless schedule filled with appointments and extra-curricular activities; though these factors cannot be discounted, the past month has taught me a lesson I have learned many times in the past, but seem to have difficulty grasping and applying practically each day despite life's bumps and bruises.
The lack of motivation and passion I felt for writing throughout the year carried over into running. After healing from my injury and being given the "go ahead" from my physical therapist, I simply had no desire to run. Frustrated with my inability to bounce back quickly, I once again attributed my lack of fire to external factors, traveling throughout most of the summer, the craziness of a new school year, a new child in the house and the onset of winter. The only activity I found myself able to perform with regularity was walking; and oh did I walk, even in below freezing temperatures. I walked to maintain sanity during, what turned out to be, a never ending winter. I told myself that with the onset of warmer spring temperatures, time settling into a new routine with two children, and a less hectic schedule as the school year came to an end, I would find myself ready and willing to once again lace up my running shoes and hit the pavement. Neither my schedule, nor the weather cooperated.
After several months of endlessly wet days, Vermont finally received the gift of sunshine (Though it was not to stay. The days continue to be a mix of rain, clouds, and sunshine) igniting two small sparks, one in my brain and one in my body, a pulsing desire to both write and run.
Which came first, the chicken or the egg, remains unclear. However, as soon as I hit the pavement a plethora of coherent blog postings inundated my brain, driving my feet faster and pushing me through the physical pain inevitable after a year without running.
Last night, as I contemplated these words, I was reminded of several past blog postings regarding the link between my running and my writing. Despite my past assertiveness that my writing and running were independent entities, this past year has reminded me that both are essential to my physical and mental health. And though my writing is not, and does not have to be exclusively about running, it is their relationship to each other that allows me to maintain some semblance of sanity, clarity, and intellect.
I am, therefore making a promise to myself, to maintain both, despite life's craziness, because running my feet over the ground and my fingers over the key board are those actions that allow me to cope with life's everyday stresses and exhaustion.
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