Random Daily Musings

I finally bought the ticket.  During my long run a few weekends ago, in order to avoid the inevitable pain that threatened to sneak up on me during mile seven, I instead directed my thoughts to the question that looms constantly over my head, “What do you really want to do in this life?” 

This year, my twenty-sixth, has been, as have most of the past few, an extensive series of pivotal highs and monumental lows.  Much like that song from the Stephen Sondheim musical, “Follies,”  I can attest that in my past few years, “Good times and bum times, I’ve seen them all and, my dear, I’m still here.”  The first few years of my twenties were spent as they are all too often (and perhaps should be) spent:  screwing around, partying, laughing, getting into nonsensical trouble, and being completely devoid of (or perhaps avoiding) whatever meaningfulness I ultimately wished to discover.  For whatever reason, maybe because I’ve crossed the threshold from my early twenties and am now rapidly approaching my latter twenties, I feel my life’s biological clock beginning to tick.  Twenty-six.  All the kids back home are married, and have numerous kids of their own…as well as husbands, and houses, and car payments, and play dates, and pediatrician bills, and mortgage payments, and God-I-Hope-For-My-Own-Sake, just a tad bit of melancholy for the single, nomadic, bohemic, and (seemingly) carefree life that I lead.  Because if they don’t, then Lord, I’m a sorry case. 

Anyways, I digress.  Bottom line:  I’m beginning to REALLY feel the pressure to produce the fruits of my lifetime, whatever those may be.  And not only do I feel the pressure to produce, I also feel the incredible heaviness of needing to know something.  Just a little something.  A pearl or two of wisdom to guide me through the high seas.  I’ve written before about how training for the marathon has taught me a lot, not only about myself, but also about life.  And (this is going to be TERRIBLY cliche- please forgive) life really is like a marathon.  Somedays three miles feels like an agonizing twenty, and vice versa.  Somedays my weary mind or aching body won’t even allow me to set foot outside the door, and other times, despite my physical or mental state, all I CAN do is run.  But the most important thing that I’ve learned throughout all of this is that you have to JUST DO and don’t think too much.  Lest you think I sound too much like an inspirational copy writer for Nike, I will continue; the major reason we don’t all accomplish all the things we’d like to, or talk about, or promise ourselves that we will AT SOME POINT do, is uncertainty, fear, and discomfort, but those are all a part of life.  Running a marathon is NOT comfortable.  It hurts, and you sweat, and you get frustrated, and you make sacrifices to other aspects of your life, but for whatever reason, you need to do it.  You WANT to do it, and so you just DO. 

I’ve been wanting to run a marathon for about five years now…or, arguably, I’ve been wanting to run one my whole life but just didn’t know it for the first twenty-one years.  And there are two other things that I really have to do:  write a book (or at least write regularly in some capacity), and last but certainly not least:  travel.  Now, while I do truly believe that we should absolutely accomplish everything (or at least all the major things) that we wish to during our lives, I do believe that there is a time for each goal to be undertaken.  The marathon seemed the best place to start for me, mainly because I so happened to do a half marathon with my mom six months ago, and it felt so good (and somewhat easy) that I decided to really actually DO the real thing.  It was very scary to start, and I feared I would, as I had in the past, only make it a week or two before throwing up my hands.  But I was determined.  And through the frustrating runs where I stopped every five minutes to walk, and the fifteen milers that I breezed through, I kept going.  I missed an entire week towards the end of this training, but I knew it was going to be OK.  And in fact, the next week was that much better.   And now, with the achievement of this goal just a few short weeks away, I’ve begun to think about what I want to tackle next. 

I have for years made numerous dream trips with friends.  We would sit in front of the computer, logging countless hours on Expedia, and Priceline, and all the other major travel sites, looking up dream vacations.  We’d have long, romanticizing conversations about what it would be like to drink espresso after espresso at an outdoor cafe in Paris.  How warm and blue the Mediterranean would be on the shore of Florence.  How big kangaroos would really appear, in person, in Sydney, and most importantly, how satisfied and fulfilled we would be having experienced these things.  For YEARS I’ve been playing the “What If/How’s It Going to Be Travel Game.”  And the thing with games is that if you play them long enough, you really start to want to win.  So, it was on this very long eighteen mile run a few Saturday’s ago, that I decided that I would simply DO.  I would simply “But the Ticket.”  Because really, that’s all you have to do to travel.  And sure, money is of course, always a factor, but I’ve been spending and saving wisely (not to mention working very hard) for the past few months, and I had the money in my bank account.  And yes, it IS nice to have a cushion.  But “cushions” don’t take you to Europe.  So.  I bought the ticket.  And it was scary.  And my palms sweated and my blood pressure skyrocketed.  But after I shakenly clicked the “Confirm Payment” button, and it was all over, and I couldn’t refund it because I had not allowed myself to buy the recommended travel insurance, I felt calm.  And like I had made a terrific decision.  I bought the ticket about a week ago, but I still don’t really believe it.  (Despite what my bank account tells me).  It just doesn’t feel real.  Much like the fact that I will be running 26.2 miles in just seventeen days, I just can’t believe I’m here, in this place, where things that I’ve really wanted are starting to happen.  And it’s not as if these things just fell in my lap:  I worked and planned hard for both of them.  I know these are just the tip of the iceberg:  I’m not going to be satisfied with a mere eleven days in Europe, nor will I be satisfied just finishing one marathon, but these things are both a damn good start.   And the funny thing about just DOING is that STARTING is by far the most difficult part.  After that, it’s just a journey.  And all of these journeys become our story, and who knows, maybe even this short “story” will eventually turn itself into a book.  And if it does, then I’ll have the most enjoyable experience one can have:  tackling new mountains and more uncomfortably-uncharted ground.