Lately, I’ve started a whole bunch of posts, but never managed to finish and/or publish them.
I try not to start writing unless I’m passionate about the topic, and I try not to post until I’m satisfied with what I’ve written. None of my recent attempts have met both these criteria.
I’m passionate about running, sure, but the more running blogs I read — with the exception of a few favorites — the less I’m convinced that the world needs another running blogger (i.e., me).
I love to write, but I don’t love the self-scrutinizing that takes place when I attempt to write for this blog. Am I being clear enough? Am I being funny enough? Is there any way this could get me fired? (Writing about food, however, I can handle.)
But most of all, the whole “running/writing only counts if it’s been documented/published somewhere on the internet” idea bothers me.
I ran for years without anyone (including myself, for the bulk of that time) knowing how far or how fast I ran each week. And I wrote for years, in journals, without anyone reading most of it. At some point, I forgot that miles and words have value, even when no one else knows you’ve run them or written them.
I’m going back to doing the things I love to do in private, at least temporarily. (Well, I’ll continue to run outside…but I’m not going to report on it.) If I write something even I, my most critical critic, find exceedingly brilliant — and fit for public consumption — I’ll be sure to make my glorious return.