I am supposed to be in bed, and it's 7 oclock in the evening. I am on shift at midnight and hungover from a bad sleep on a normal night. I am supposed to have written 60 minutes for the NaNoWriMo marathon I was to have begun 5 days ago. It all seemed so doable, but I find myself always behind the boulder that I am supposed to be pushing up to the crest of the hill, never to actually get there.
The writing marathon is in preparation of November's feat of writing a 50,000 page novel, and it seems like a great way to get in some practice with exercises all year long. 10 minutes was easy. 20 minute went pretty fast. 30 minutes didn't happen and 60 minutes won't either. There is no way tomorrow is going to have 2 hours of time to write, and I find the suggested "training schedule" a little intense. So I am taking 7 minutes, which will likely turn into 10. Anything is so much better than zero.
What inspired me to sit down and write, even if it has nothing to do with a novel? It was the moment I came inside from gardening, and saw that the sky was, at the same time, darkening and lightening into the colours of sunset on a sunny day. It was beautiful, and strangers and neighbours were in accordance that this was a great day. For me, the last two weeks when the streets finally cleared of the ice that covered them for the last 4 months were just fine, but it was consensus today, and I had to agree. The wind was noisy and gusty, just like I like it from my prairie days. The water was running freely through the drains and I even found a spider in the soil as I unearthed grass growing in the wrong place that wasn't dealt with from last year. It was the kind of spring day that I remember rejoicing in as a child, in rubber boots, with toothpick boat races and kite-flying. It was the moment that I came inside from an hour of gardening that I almost didn't do. I was dirty and am still tired, but I wasn't sad anymore. I was alone in my house, and I wouldn't call it happy, but there was a complete lack of sadness in my aloneness, and, honestly, that was a great relief.
One insight that I recalled while gardening and dreaming of hosting baby showers and having friends over and widening my social circle was that I didn't have to be done. I can no longer wait until my garden or my house or my body is in shape. I am a total believer in the philosophy of starting before I am ready. Why else would I be a marathoner, half-marathoner, triathlete, doctor, or mother? The act of signing up is the beginning of something great, and being ready has never been the point at which to start any of those things.
So, I am 17 minutes in, and I really do need to sleep, but I want to remind myself, and anyone reading this blog, that spring is a perfectly wonderful time to start something that you are totally not ready for. If you don't start it, you will be never complete it. So just do it! Start something that scares you a little today!
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