Yesterday was an inspiring day: 1-11-11
All those number ones kinda made me want to be a Number 1 myself. There they all were – all five of them, debunking the oft-referenced truism that one is the loneliest number. Standing together, on the straight and narrow. The number one is in many of these ways diametrically opposed to the blob. One is first, best, on top, and SKINNY. But surely in the wake of 1-11-11 there is something to be taken by even the blobbiest blob from the number one. There are more than a few things about the number one with which we blobs may empathize. While the number one may be low, and as far as counting goes it is virtually insignificant, the number one can also be a constituent part of something greater than itself, and – most importantly – the number one is a GOOD START.
I decided to focus on “1.” Jumping in to the middle of January already abysmally behind in the Bloblessness Project had me feeling low, insignificant, and slightly one-like. I needed to focus on building and on making some sort of re-start. So I decided to focus on getting just one of my daily Bloblessness goals nailed down. I got my weekday 6 miler in first thing at 6:30AM. It was 27 degrees and dark, and the moment I stepped outside my eyes and my nose began to water. But I ran anyway. For the entire first mile I bargained and equivocated with myself, attempting to forge som sustainable excuse for quitting early:
“I might hurt my muscles in this cold.“
“Maybe 6 miles is a bit much after taking so much time off. Just start slow.“
“If I SWEAR to do 90 minutes of yoga tonight, I can get away with just 3 miles this morning.“
But at mile 2 something happened. I saw a pair of runners coming toward me just as dawn began to break. They were silhouetted in all their tight black fleece and Lycra bundled glory and I though, “Wow, now they are a couple of committed, determined, awesome athletes.” I was well past them when it dawned on me, “Hey! I am out here, too. In fact, I am the ONLY other runner out here with them.” And I felt awash with an unfamiliar adrenaline-boosting feeling: I. Am. So. In. The. Club.
It was enough to power me in a ladder-style race against the trash truck for the whole middle third of my run. I’d follow as the truck lumbered between outset trash cans and as soon as it slowed for workers to tumble out and collect the cans, I’d strike with a surging run to take the lead. It was even enough to keep me running straight for the last two miles instead of taking a right turn and short-cutting home a mile-and-a-half quicker.
So I did it. I started small with just one thing. Just get through the run. And suddenly I remembered how this whole goal thing got started. I’m hooked. I got one thing down and I’m hungry for more.
So what’s next?