Not Crashing Through Life

I went for a jog this morning. Wasn't sure I wanted to go, but I wanted to have run, wanted to feel like a runner again. The only way to do that is to get out on the street. Buying running stuff won't do it. Only moving my body and raising my heartrate will have me feeling like a runner.

I jogged to the corner where a four-way stop didn't slow a young driver doing forty miles an hour. I was young too once and drove at least as recklessly, but now I know there's not enough joy in rushing. Slow down, I wished at them. Don't get hurt.

I jogged on and, two blocks later, an older couple sped past me. Again I wished, slow down, and then heard them crash into another car.

For a moment, I considered going on, but ran back to the scene. The couple were getting shakily out of the car, both airbags having gone off, the engine smoking. The driver asked, did you see her pull out in front of us? I suggested he sit, but he said he was alright. Not wanting to get into who was at fault, I checked on the other driver as she tried to call someone.

She was crying but seemed uninjured. Her mother wasn't answering. It's okay, I told her. She called her father and, when he answered, she broke down. I named the intersection for her, then others there to help and a fire truck arriving, I proceeded on my jog.

I couldn't keep my heartrate down. That had nothing to do with the accident but had me thinking slow down, be thoughtful. My heartrate was up because I've been eating carelessly, drinking too much alcohol, not moving my body. Slow down, think things through.

I've now jogged two miles, shaved, showered, typed and edited these words. I tried to help people in distress, myself included. I feel like a runner and like a writer. I'm not blindly flying through stop signs, speeding through life, turning carelessly, crashing into others.

I'm grateful for the speeding drivers. They've helped me slow down and be just that much more present to my life, who I am, and who I want to be.

Morning Pages, Twelfth Anniversary

It's Fourth of July. Given the decline of our democratic republic, I'm not celebrating that. Instead, I have an anniversary to consider and maybe celebrate.

Years ago, I read about of Morning Pages, Julia Cameron's practice of writing three pages by hand first thing each morning. It appealed to me, but I didn't begin. I've long had dreams of filling pages, creating a mountain of work. Each notebook I bought, stole, or received as a kid filled me with dreams of writing every day, becoming a writer. Those plans fell apart as obligation overwhelmed desire.

Late June, early July 2014, I was trying to remake my life. I'd barely survived my mid-life crisis and was stuck in the fourth year of a job that was dragging me down. Looking for ways to change, I signed on to co-lead a two-week writing workshop beginning July 5. That morning, I arrived early, made coffee, and put fountain pen to the first of three Morning Pages.

The next day I did three more. I kept expectations low: just fill this page,. I tried not to think of the next page or the next day's, let alone the rest of the month and year. I wrote the page in front of me.

This morning I woke, set the kettle to boil, and emptied the dishwasher. I made coffee and carried it to the desk. I pulled clipboard, fountain pen, and reading glasses from the shelf, and started writing. It wasn't until page three that I realized I was finishing my twelfth year of Morning Pages.

I've kept going. I have a daily practice, but I don't want to make too much of it.

Well, I want to make a little bit out of it. I'm pleased and comforted by the numbers: twelve years, 4,383 days, 13,149 pages. Almost three cases of paper, all of it reused (I print lines on the backs of used pages).

Beyond that small celebration, I don't want to make a big deal about what I've done any more than I do about brewing coffee or emptying the dishwasher. These are just my daily practices.

What I celebrate is how Morning Pages has changed my mind. Habits wear grooves in the brain. Morning Pages are groovy in the extreme. I often write of how I'm thinking, how I want to think. Lately, I'm writing about how I feel, a tougher thing for me, one I'm learning a tiny bit each day.

I've been changed by this practice. Morning Pages are a kind of meditation that is a tool for my change and growth. I'm calmer than twelve years ago, a bit more thoughtful and accepting. I feel how much more there is to learn and that keeps me going.

Do I recommend Morning Pages? Not really. I mean, you do you. I've had good experiences with the practice. There are good mornings and bad, but it's not about that. I'm still learning what it is about.

Rather than recommend, I'll say again what I do. I wake, empty the dishwasher, make a decaf and carry it to the desk where fountain pen, pages, and reading glasses wait. I note the date and label page one then begin writing the first thought in my head. Content pales in comparison with practice. As Natalie Goldberg recommends, I just keep the pen moving through three pages, file them away, and go wash my cup. The next day, I do it again.

Make of it what you will. Rather than celebrate what I've done, I take comfort in knowing the pen waits for tomorrow's Morning Pages and my continued slow walk down a path that feels as though it's moving me into the light.

A Personal Computer

This may seem silly.

I spent $300 on a personal laptop. I have a work laptop I've also used for home, but I've found myself avoiding it so as to get away from work. That's kept me from personal correspondence and writing, two big losses.

There's a Framework laptop I love, but it costs $1,500. I can't get behind that.

I watched this Becca Farsace video in which she suggests buying refurbished, a good frugal idea. I found a ThinkPad T14 on Back Market, a writing machine with a great keyboard. So far, I'm with Becca.

I wiped Windows and installed Linux, so the machine can go on pretty much indefinitely. Linux is more fun and is a small barrier to doing office work on it. I could do office work, but Linux is a good reminder not to. It makes it inconvenient.

Running Linux when almost everyone is running Windows or Mac OS is the definition of inconvenience. It's choosing not to go with the current. And that, my friends, is a good way to go.

So too is getting back to writing and being frugal about it.

How To Start Running

I opened the browser and navigated to Runner's World for running inspiration. Yesterday, I did a few treadmill miles and felt good. To keep that going, I wanted a bit of inspiration, but the headlines didn't do much for me. I know this stuff. So, why not write it myself? I stole a title: "How to Start Running." Now I can talk to myself, and maybe you, about it.

Start running by going for a run. We know how. I've run and so have you. As children, we ran to explore ourselves and the world. As adults, we've run to catch a train or elevator, to keep a child from danger, and a hundred other things. We know how to run.

I'm dressed in shorts and t-shirt. My socks are on the desk, shoes are downstairs. In half an hour, my wife, daughters, and I will go to the gym. I'll climb on a treadmill and push start. Dress for running and take the first step. Easy.

An advertisement from years ago showed a comfy couch over which hung the word "DEATH." Start running by getting off the couch which may be a couch, the television, phone, computer, work, alcohol, snacks, or our whole culture of convenience. Get up to start running.

Don't start running to lose weight, look sexy, because a doctor says so, or to get faster. Start running because it is joyous.

Start running by saying, "I've never regretted having gone for a run."

Start running by saying, "I'm just going outside or to the gym, no obligation, no expectations."

Start running by feeling your feet carrying you, your lungs powering you, your brain telling you to stop but you saying, "nah, I'll run one more step."

That's how to start running. Let's go.