Keep Running – Thursday January 20th

A couple of days after I posted my first essay about running, I got a text message from my friend Dan. Well, I didn’t know it was Dan at first because when I dropped my old iPhone into the toilet I lost a lot of phone numbers. Anyway, Dan texted me that he had left a book for me with my doorman. After peeling myself off the couch and retrieving it, I stared at the cover of “What I Talk About When I Talk About Running” by Haruki Murakami and felt immediately intimidated. Haruki looked fit, and he look self-assured, and he looked like a natural.

I do not look like Haruki.

But my philosophy has always been to read all books given to me with intention. Books recommendations have a way of revealing insight into your friends that you might have otherwise overlooked. And Dan is a very special person. When he is interested in something, he learns about it, then he does it. He does stuff all the time. He and his wife Elizabeth- one of my all-time dearest friends- make their own sausages, make their own ice cream, make their own anything they want. These people are doers. And when they do something, they do it well. So I started reading Murakami’s book.

At first I felt wildly frustrated. This is a guy who’s life’s philosophy seems to be: Decide on doing something. Work outrageously hard. Become awesome at it.

That is not my philosophy. I’m more like: Complain and complain about wanting to do something until your friends and family wish they didn’t have to answer the phone when you call. Wait for an opportunity. When one comes along, blow it up spectacularly because you are scared and unsure of yourself.

I couldn’t relate to Haruki’s motivation or success. Then, about half-way through the book he describes a moment where his body doesn’t cooperate, despite the practice and hard work. So, he practices more and works harder. Then he gets better. He never loses confidence. In fact, it’s almost like he doesn’t need confidence, because he’s got a gigantic reserve of perseverance.

I think I might have a little perseverance. Not make-your-own-ice-cream perseverance, but go-to-the-gym-every-day-instead-of-lie-on-my-floor-and-cry-perseverance. That should count for something. I mean, I know it counts for something.

So, Mr. Murakami, I get it now. Keep trying. That’s the real motto. I can do that. And big thanks to Dan, who knew I’d get the point, even when I complained about the book that time I saw him.