Different body parts, but the fundamentals are the same.
I've been a runner for as long as I can remember. I even ran competitively in middle school and high school. It wasn't until I was in my late twenties, though, that I found long-distance running and actively started trying to be good at it.
Now, between high school and getting quote-end-quote "serious" about running, it's not like I gave it up completely. At different points, I'd go jog a few miles now and then, alone or with friends. Or a few times a week, I'd drive out to the bike trail off the next exit and run a few miles out and back. Or do a little jogging in the canyon behind my apartment, or get a few miles in on the treadmill at the gym. I ran my first tiny local 5K in twenty-four something.
But I wasn't really all that serious about it. I mean, yeah; if I'd woken up one day suddenly able to run a five-minute mile or a sixteen-minute 5K, that would have been pretty awesome, but it wasn't something I was actively pursuing.
And then, one day, for some reason which escapes me now, I suddenly did want to. I could actually imagine what it might feel like to be a legitimately fast runner, to run a certain distance faster and faster, to complete longer distances and feel proud of that accomplishment.
Suddenly I was on the internet trying to figure out how a person went about that, exactly, since jogging three miles here and four miles there when the notion struck was almost certainly not going to get it done. A few months later I ran my first half marathon and received my first race medal, and that was it; I was hooked.
The secret, I learned, was doing moderately hard things consistently--day in, day out, no matter what else was going on, no matter how you felt about it (barring, of course, illness and injury). A person had to a) commit, b) plan, and c) execute.
The commitment part, for me, was choosing to make the trade-off from casual, comfortable runs that happened only when I felt like it to gradually longer and sometimes harder runs that I did whether I felt like it or not. If I was tired but the training plan said five mile repeats with a two-mile warm-up and cool-down, that's what I did. If it called for a 16 mile long run but I'd rather drink tea and read, off I went anyway. Yes, it was more work and more discomfort and more time, but I was able to reach some big goals and accomplish some exciting-to-me things. I took four minutes off my 5K time, 38 minutes off my half marathon, and even qualified for the Boston Marathon. Running the way I'd done it before was more pleasant and casual--which is fine! Many people are very happy that way!--but it wasn't going to get me to those big exciting goals I'd started to lust after.
Now, of course, there are the exceptions; no one's life is 100% cooperative and sometimes missing a run or cutting it short is unavoidable. But as someone once said to me, "You've got to build a fence around your running time and fight to protect it." By protecting the time, you're protecting your long-term goals.
When I finally decided to get quote-end-quote "serious" about writing (at least some of the time!), having had this experience with running was invaluable. For most of my life, writing had mostly been a few pages here when I felt like it, a few pages there when I wasn't not bogged down by something else, and a lot of open-the-manuscript-and-goof-around-with-it-for-an-hour-and-produce-maybe-twenty-words total. Which, again, is fine! There is nothing wrong with writing that way if it makes you happy.
But as with running, I started to want more, to wonder what it might feel like to really buckle down at this thing and see what I could accomplish. So, as with running, I put myself on a schedule: 2,000 words a day for a month, come hell or high water (thanks, #NaNoWriMo!). Did I always feel like it? No. Did I always have oodles of time for it? Of course not. Did the words flow freely and easily every time I sat down? HAHAHAHAHAHA.
But I did it anyway. Don't feel like writing 2,000 words? Suck it up, buttercup. Only have forty-five minutes? WRITE LIKE THE WIND, FINGERS! Getting the words out like pulling teeth today?
DO.
IT.
ANYWAY.
Of course, as with running, life is rarely 100% cooperative all the time, and there certainly were (and still are!) days where I just did not have the time, or despite my best efforts, I only got to 1,000. Or 500. But you know what? That's okay; I was still getting LOADS more done than ever before. And having established writing as a priority and come up with a plan made it easier to protect my time. (Drinks tonight? Love to but I'm 1,500 words behind. Grab a movie? Maybe next weekend, need to get those words in. Dishes? I'll get to them tonight, need to bang out a few more paragraphs first. Etc. etc.)
Sometimes all you need is a plan, and a willingness to do something moderately hard on a consistent basis.
How did you learn to write? Did you take fancy classes, or learn your trade via some other life experience? Or are you completely self-taught? TELL US ALL YOUR SECRETS!
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