I mentioned earlier a rough review I got for a draft of a novel I'm trying to write. The prologue was decimated as categorical proof of my shortcomings as a writer. Then there was the first chapter. I still haven't gotten feedback on that yet. I've written and rewritten over 20 drafts of that first chapter. They say the most difficult parts of a story to write are the endings and the beginnings.
Last month before I became enslaved by the indoor lethargy of finals and freelance I got back into running. A year ago I used to regularly jog anywhere between 5 to 10 kilometers but have since opted for shorter interval sprints to build up my cardio endurance and ease up on my joints. Yet always, without fail, the hardest part of any run regardless of the distance is that first part. That transition from a sedentary state to runner-mode. This usually only lasts about half a mile, never longer than a full mile.
Why is it so hard to get to Part Two?
You start with such vigorous optimism, your hope bright and new. This time you'll do it! You'll lose those extra pounds, make more time for family, shoot for that promotion, start that small business, run that marathon, finish that book, discontinue that netflix account, learn that recipe. You are finally going to sweep out those cobwebs of complacence and start your life with a clean start.
January's frosty chill can't deter your willpower. You wake up early and get out there training, breaking old habits, establishing new patterns of living and hitting the refresh button on your day to day. You are the picture of dedication. Days soon build into a week, then two. By week three the novelty of your new life begins wearing away, revealing that remaining discomfort of missing out on the "good ol' days," patiently waiting for you to succumb to its embrace. You make excuses, a day missed here, a little slip there, and before February ends, those gym passes you got as a new year's present to yourself sit gathering dust, you're back to the sleeping in, fat, lazy, uncultured, illiterate netflix-binger that disgusted you in last year's mirror.
The February mark is a tough reality to face. Fact is, very few New Year's Resolutions last beyond two months.
What makes Part Two so seemingly unattainable?
Honestly, I think it's because as much as we like to think we know our heart's desires,
we don't know what we want.
I don't mean that our desires are necessarily changeable, although that can often be the case. I mean we don't know how badly we want what we want. How much are you willing to put into your goals? What desires take top priority? What is still worth the effort when your new habit is no longer new, just uncomfortable?
Often these priorities reveal themselves organically. Is the misery of that first try, first lap, first draft worth trudging through?
Absolutely.
Kara's Flowers' debut album flopped before they reformed as Maroon 5. Coldplay once went by Starfish in the bumpy first lap of their career. Even the founding fathers had to go through a first draft flop of legislation (those darn Articles of Confederation) before they drafted the Constitution. Very rarely will you succeed on your first go. 2013 was filled with lessons on what not to do in my life. Next year will have plenty of those, too. I'm just trying not to repeat them. Don't give up on your first lap. Don't put down the pen halfway through the prologue.
Let's get to March one step, one page, one lap, one brilliantly dazzling mistake at a time. Join me in my march to March 2014.
S
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