This weekend I will drive to Moab, Utah and run a half-marathon called The Other Half. The course starts at the top of a canyon carved by the Colorado River and ends, 13.1 miles later, at a beautiful guest ranch situated along the river among red rock buttes and towering spires. I’ll incorporate a night of camping into the trip. It’s the perfect time of year to be in the desert country of Utah, no longer too hot and not yet cold.
Photo credit: kiwicollection.com
While packing a bit ago, I realized a couple of things. First, I’ve been blogging for nearly four months now and I have yet to write about running. I don’t even think I’ve mentioned that I’m a runner. In fact, I know I haven’t. I may have hinted that I go out running sometimes, but to have referred to myself as a runner? No.
I cut this quote from a running magazine a few years back and it’s still stapled to a bulletin board in my office:
I often hear people say, “I’m not a real runner.” We are all runners, some just run faster than others, that’s all. I have never met a fake runner. –Bart Yasso, Runner’s World Chief Running Officer
This quote hit home with me then and it’s still relevant today.
Another thing I realized tonight is that I can replace the word runner and the word faster in that quote and it becomes meaningful in other areas of my life as well.
For example:
I often hear people say, “I’m not a real writer.” We are all writers, some just write more often and with greater impact, that’s all. I have never met a fake writer.”
I’ve written two books and I’m blogging and I’m working on a memoir and I love the process of writing, but still I do not consider myself a real writer. A real writer is someone like my daughter. A couple of days ago I reminded her that she better get busy on her personal essay for her college applications. She grudgingly agreed and worked on it for a couple of hours and then said, “Okay, do you want to hear it? It’s just a rough draft, but I think it might be a good start.” And she proceeded to read this incredible orchestration of emotional, passionate words that showed, beyond a doubt, how deeply and fully she has grown and now understands herself, her strengths, and how she fits into this world. I struggle to even describe the beauty of that essay and how it touched me. And I could never write anything near that significant. She is an emotional being and can easily bring that into her writing. I, on the other hand… well, I’m not a real writer. I can’t do it like she does and I’m sure I’ll never be able to.
I often hear people say, “I’m not a real musician.” We are all musicians, some just create their own music, that’s all. I have never met a fake musician.”
I took piano lessons for nine years growing up, ages 9 to 18. I also played the flute and the oboe. I quit playing the piano when I went to college, when I found myself among real musicians. Surely I wasn’t in the same league as they were. And then there’s my brother. He took a couple of months of piano lessons as a kid. That’s it. But he picked up a guitar in high school and taught himself to play. He can’t read a lick of music, but he can listen to any song and pick it out on his guitar and have it sounding like the real thing in a matter of hours. Or, he’ll just write his own songs. I don’t have an ear. I can’t play anything unless I read the music. I think you’ll agree, he’s the real musician.
I often hear people say, “I’m not a real cook.” We are all cooks, some just put care and time into it, that’s all. I have never met a fake cook.
Well, then, let me introduce myself.
The running quote will be on my mind this weekend. I’ve run this race a few times before and I always have mixed emotions afterwards. I’ll have a few hours to contemplate this as I trot down the canyon and a few more on the way home as I leave Utah and cross back into Colorado. I hope to think through these feelings more deeply this time and come to some newer, and truer, realizations.
If I do, I’ll get back to you.
Running The Other Half in October 2011.
A String of Pearls 
