It has been said that runners have their best thoughts of the day while out running. Runner and writer
Michael Selman shares his
"Thoughts on Running" with us here at ontherunevents.com.
Every December, I am moved to reach out to my readership on a more intimate
level than I do the other eleven months of the year. I'm not exactly sure
why that is, but here we are nearing the end of December, and I once again
feel compelled to tell you all how much I appreciate the fact that there are
actually real human beings on the other side of my written thoughts. It's a
very high compliment to know that anyone is taking the time to read my mind
through my column, and I am particularly moved when someone takes the time to
respond, because it means you understand that there is a human being on my
side of the words too.
I have always enjoyed playing with words. My earliest writing efforts were
poems, and believe it or not, they had nothing to do with running. I wrote
poems because a long time ago, I learned that if you play with words long
enough, they start playing back. They become docile and actually start
eating right out of your hand. Words are trainable, and even though they
often bite, they can also be domesticated. At some point in my early days of
writing, I discovered that, although I didn't see myself as having any
particular writing talent, other people said that what I wrote was pretty
good. And I liked the relationship I was developing with words. During my
school days, standardized tests always indicated an aptitude towards math.
But although those test might have been able to measure intelligence, they
could not measure heart.
Words by themselves are just vocabulary, void of feeling or emotion. Most
words have been around for a long, long time, and there are seldom any new
ones any more. The trick has always been to arrange the same old words in a
new and refreshing order. That's what writing is all about, no matter what
the topic. Somehow, when I run, stale language becomes alive as the words
start to dance and sing. I come back from many runs ready to orchestrate the
words in a pleasing order that will eventually find their way to your
computer or your newsletter, and possibly, your heart.
Over the years, I've noticed that running words are truth in its purest form.
They scream of honesty. Running words help me understand other people
better, and they speak to me about life. But most of all, they teach me
about me. At times, running words comfort me, and often, they confront me.
Their harsh honesty sometimes scares me, but running words never lie. They
are my shrink, my confidant, my friend and my lifelong companion. Loneliness
of the long distance runner is a myth. I always run with good company. My
words of reality are always with me when I run.
At times over the last few years, my writing has been like my running. There
have been days I have not felt like running, and it's been difficult to put
one foot in front of the other. But I continued to do it because I am a
runner, and I've learned that I usually feel better after a run than I did
before it. Likewise, there have been times I have been so uninspired that I
have not felt like writing. There have been times I felt that maybe I would
have been better off skipping a column or two. It was an effort to put one
word in front of another. I guess that much like junk miles, I have written
some junk columns at times. But I have felt that doing sub-par columns was
still better than doing nothing, because I am still a writer. And as with
running, I have usually felt better afterwards.
The purpose of my writing has vacillated over the years, just as my running
has. In the beginning, I wrote mainly humor, and I wrote it mainly for you.
But when life was suddenly not so funny any more, I started writing more
philosophically, and suddenly, I was writing for me, but allowing you to
listen in. What I learned in the process is that my thoughts weren't
uniquely my own, but they were the universal thoughts of many runners. It
seemed that, over time, my therapy through writing became the therapy of some
of my readers through reading. You have told me so, and I am honored to know
that I could possibly inspire someone I don't even know, and never will.
Today, I write for us.
My main goal for the coming year is not performance based, at least not
running wise. Every year, I want to run faster, further, and more often than
the year before. Those goals have not changed, but they are not fixations.
This coming year, the only goal I am going to relentlessly pursue is to find
a publisher for the book I've been dreaming of writing for several years now.
I first starting writing my running thoughts about six years ago, I wanted
instant gratification. I quit a good job with a company I had been with for
close to 15 years, because I wanted to follow my dream and write my book. I
learned a difficult lesson soon after. I learned that balance is a key
element of success and fulfillment.
But I also learned that it's not so bad to try to catch your dreams, even if
they remain out of reach. It's a lot better than not even making the attempt
to live them. I had my dream, but I was in too much of a rush to make it
happen. I went about it the wrong way back then, and paid a price. Once my
dream was put on hold, I was fortunate that my company took me back, and
bridged my years of service. Ever since then, I've been continuing to write
my book, a little bit at a time, while tempering it with balance. It's been a
mostly nice trip. Even dream fulfillment requires planning. Dreams don't
come true with a sprinkling of fairy dust. They come with hard work and
perseverance. And they do come to those who nurture them every step of the
way.
Thank you for continuing to read one runner's thoughts, and for your
continued support year after year. By this time next year, perhaps I will
still be attempting to realize my dream, or perhaps that dream will be well
on its way to being fulfilled. If it is, I also hope there will be another
dream right around the corner, and just out of reach.
When I completed the 2nd grade, my teacher wrote a comment on my final report
card, in the comments section. It was a note to my parents, and summarized
me in a few short select words. She wrote "A dreamer with a fine mind." I
think she wrote that as if it was a bad thing. Even teachers can sometimes
be wrong.
Four Lines at a Time
Year in and year out, my December column has always been one of my favorite ones to develop in my mind, and to write. If it's been a good year, as most
of them have been, the column has usually been a reflective one, fondly
looking back on the year's peak experiences. If it's been a bad year with a
short highlight reel, then December is the time to be thankful that I can
write the year off and start anew. No matter what kind of year it's been,
December 31st has been the time to close the book on one year, and January
1st has been the time to open the book on another, and for this reason, it's
important for me to run on both of these days.
Ever since I've been running, my entire year is documented, four lines at a
time, almost daily in my runner's log. One would think that four short lines
could hardly capture the essence of the run, because there is often so much
more to say than the limited space can hold. Those four lines are not only a
reflection of the run, but they can represent, at a very high level, the
entire story of one's life. The small confines of paper logs present the
formidable challenge of painting the daily run's unique picture in as much
detail as possible with limited strokes of the pen.
How does one capture the varying nuances of individual runs in four short
lines, seven sets to a page? As difficult as it may sound, there is really no
mystery at all. It just happens. Somehow, those four little lines can
capture the bone-chilling winter wind blowing in your face or the smell of a
spring shower, quickly taking you back to fond childhood memories, or
anything else that differentiates the feel of one run from the next. Just as
compelling a question might be how every run along the same route, at the
same time of day as a thousand other runs can maintain its distinction from
one day to the next over many years.
A couple of years ago, I tried to maintain an on-line running log
concurrently with my written one. It had some wonderful features that are
not present in a paper log. It could help me track the miles on each pair of
shoes, and it could total up my cumulative mileage and figure out my pace per
mile. And it allowed me as much space as I wanted to document every little
detail of each run. I had enough room to write an entire essay about each
run. It sure sounded good "on paper," but it was not the same as it is on
paper. I stopped maintaining it in less than two months. It just wasn't the
same comfort food as finding myself half way through December, and carrying a
year's worth of life in my hands, documented four lines at a time.
Every December, the year and the log become complete, and hopefully, I can
look back on either one and know they were full. Four lines at a time, year
after year, my life continues to be revealed as I bare my soul through the
eyes of a runner. The highs and the lows are all there, and it ends up not
just being about running. In some strange sort of secret code, my most
intimate thoughts, my life-changing events, and my most personal revelations
are there for the world to try to interpret. If I were to design my own
running log, it would be exactly like the one I use, but my log would have
two small additions. A lock and a key. Just as the required December 31st
run and subsequent log entry, they provide closure to the year.
January 1st must have a run in it. For a very brief moment in time, on every
first day of January, before that first run, every runner is exactly the
same, if you judge a runner by their log. But that quickly changes with
those first precious miles, quickly followed by that first journal entry. A
day-old running log can be very unfulfilling. Its contents have yet to be
written, and it can be difficult to have the patience to allow the course to
be run. That final chapter is long from being written, but every new year
starts with a special excitement, and a shroud of mystery which ultimately is
revealed only way it really can be. Four lines at a time.
Have a wonderful 2002. May all your running logs be full of nothing but
miles and smiles.
Michael
The Roads Scholar, Michael Selman runs and writes in Atlanta GA. He
would love to hear from you. Please e-mail him at TheRoadsScholar@aol.com
with any questions or comments. You can also subscribe to his Newsletter
at that same address.
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