It’s been a hot minute, and the heat from that minute was starting to feel like the flames of failure. I started the blog not too long ago, and yet it’s been over a month since I’ve written anything… Have I given up on this experiment in creativity already?
Isn’t the blog here to encourage continued creativity while wading through the ocean of change?
Yes, but fortunately I’ve had other creative projects on the go. While taking a break from writing, I was indulging in other little crafts that I could fit into the pockets of free time between my kids’ bedtimes and mine. I enjoyed the change of pace and perspective!
I will admit, though – part of the reason behind my brief hiatus was a bout of perfectionism which put a pause on my publications.
I love to write, but it’s frustrating trying to make progress.
As the excitement of starting a brand new project subsides, I’m left scrolling through a smattering of unfocused ideas and wondering how I’ll ever pull together legible, helpful, succinct posts. I’m excited about a lot of the ideas that I’ve been playing with in the background, but I’m not so confident in my ability to write them.
Much like lacking the ability to paint the images in your mind.
Then I remembered: I’m a beginner, and there’s lots to learn. Being a big believer in “learn by doing” (and alliteration, apparently), I’m back and ready to go!
What brought me back was letting go a bit, giving myself permission to stink, and just focusing on doing what I enjoy. I’ve pushed past many barriers by letting go of the laundry list of things that I need to improve upon to get to the next level in favour of just doing what I enjoy because I enjoy it, and knowing that those improvements will come in due course (and not all at once).
My experience with running taught me a lot about patience and trust in the process. So as a personal reflection (and an opportunity to write more), I’ll explore that!
Run away!
Running is usually the first thing I want to do when I hit a roadblock. I joke to myself that I’m running away(!) from my problems, but I’m really just getting back in my body, shaking off the cobwebs, and giving myself the chance to mentally reset:
Can’t stop ruminating? Run.
Stuck on a creative project? Run.
Can’t leave your work at work? Run.
Trial balance stubbornly refusing to balance? Run.
Toddler losing it because she wants to be eating crackers, but refuses to let you give them to her? Run, friend! Run!
As a bonus, I’ve found that running has lots to offer when it comes to lessons on life, work, creative projects – anything with a process to enjoy, really.
For me, it’s also a reminder of my persistence and ability to push through to breakthroughs. Why?
I used to loathe running. I had a weak stomach growing up that was made worse by physical exertion, making those mandatory running days at school just the pits. I couldn’t fathom someone running just for fun, and I had assumed anyone who said they did must have been lying.
Rather than trying to persist, I threw in the towel altogether. (I mean, if you can’t be amazing at it, why bother, right? – Perfectionism)
What motivated me to run in the first place
Motivation is different for everyone, and sometimes it comes and goes in seasons.
I’m trying to remember exactly what motivated me to pick up running in adulthood. It’s probably hard to place because I’ve picked it up and put it down so many times. I know I saw it as a really convenient way to exercise (especially with an energetic dog)!
What finally made it stick, though? Following my heart. (No, really!)
Once upon a time many years ago, I met a guy who was really into running. By “really into running,” I mean crushing a full marathon (42.2 km) in 3 hours and 17 minutes. So naturally, when we started dating, the Sun Run (just a little 10 km race) seemed like a fun thing to do together.
This would not be any old casual jog on race day, though. No way. Brimming with training experience and a love of running, my new love interest was convinced that I’d have no problem running it in 60 minutes or less (with hardly any experience).
Well, I do love a challenge!
I learned to trust the process
So we trained together; or rather he trained me by helping map out “distance” days, “pace” days, and “easy” days that we ran together. On each run he very kindly reduced his pace just enough to make it a challenge for me to keep up, “motivating” me to give my full effort each run. (Annoyingly, this still only equated to a brisk walk for him. He’s got about a foot of height on me, alright!?)
I absolutely slogged through those runs, sucking wind in the name of health, pride, and love (while cursing my partner-turned-trainer from several paces behind). “You have to piss your body off a bit,” he’d say encouragingly. Oh, that’s not the only thing getting pissed off, I’d think to myself.
It turned out he was right, though – so long as you’re doing it safely, putting in that persistent, full effort can really accelerate progress. The problem is that you don’t always see it right away because progress is rarely linear.
Of course, I didn’t know that at the time, and it was hard to trust the process. In fact, some days I felt a bit bad for him because he was so sure I could run a sub-60 10K by race day, and the longer I trudged through our training regime, the more doubts I had that he was right. Still, I knew there were some great fitness benefits to be had, and I didn’t want to let on that I had my doubts, so I kept hitting the pavement.
Celebrate the small wins
I knew how many kilometers we would run each day, so the increasing distance week by week came as no surprise. But while the distance grew, my pace lagged – in hindsight it makes sense, you wouldn’t expect to suddenly be running longer and faster, right?
Rather than commiserating over the pace, we’d celebrate the jumps in distance, finishing a tough run, and even breezing through one. Those little celebrations kept my motivation high and made me feel like I was making some real progress, even if I thought a 6-minute kilometer was out of the question.
Then, about 10 days before race day and at the end of a particularly tough run, he said, “You wanna know what your pace was?”
I didn’t really, but I played along.
“5.59 minutes per kilometer.”
What!? Just like that, I had run a sub-60 10K, and I had done it without even realizing it!
It turns out that sometimes the results of training (or practice) take a little bit of time to compound upon themselves enough that they become obvious. That’s one reason that celebrating the small wins is important – it can take a lot of patience to see the real progress you were looking for, so in the meantime, why not enjoy any other progress you make, however small?
Yes, you can
Those little wins kept enough spring in my step to push me out the door, even on days when I didn’t think I had it in me to trudge through another run. I had to push past my doubts – not just my race-day ones, but the little everyday ones. Will today be the day that my stomach can’t take it? Am I going to hyperventilate and walk home? Is the hill going to get the better of me this time?
None of those things came to pass, and with each run, the limiting beliefs I once held about running fell away bit by bit, replaced with the mantra that filtered into my everyday life as well: you can do hard things.
I loved running close to that 6-minute kilometer mark. There was something about that pace that felt very freeing, but likely the most freeing part was that I knew I was doing something I’d previously thought was impossible.
Mindfulness in motion
Even after we decided we’d hit pause on the annual races, I found that I was still motivated to run. It was as though I had trained my body to a point where running became a natural activity, and I could tell when I hadn’t been on a run in a while.
I felt the value of running become intrinsic. With the absence of pace and distance goals to crush, it was now the activity itself that brought me joy, not the wins. After the first five minutes, that is.
My now-husband still likes to remind me, “The first five minutes are always the hardest”. Then I roll my eyes because he’s right. I often don’t feel like going through “the hard part”, but I do it anyway and it’s always worth it. Once I push past the initial ache, I get back into a rhythm.
It’s like the clunkiness of my muscles gives way to fluid motion as my limbs find harmony, releasing all of the built-up stress stored in there.
Breathing builds on itself like a tidal wave before breaking and then gives way to deep, controlled airflow that happens automatically, like an internal wind carrying me forward.
My mind shakes off all the complaints (“Oh, my glutes! How do my arms go again? I’m so gassed, maybe I’ll turn in early”), and becomes still and present.
Now I’m flying
It happens like this nearly every time. If I’m literally running away from a problem, this process always reminds me that I can show up exactly where I’m at and “push through” the challenges and resistance to calm clarity.
I encounter this idea frequently: resistance is usually a good indicator that you’re almost there. So when I’m running because I’m stuck at a block, I use that first five minutes to feel the frustration. Once I’ve shaken off the rust and I’m feeling present, I can open up to ideas, solutions, and new perspectives, making space for them to land.
But you can’t run forever
That’s the thing, though – running is awesome, but eventually I’ve got to circle back toward the problem and tackle it with that revitalized strength!
For what it’s worth, I found that after I’d built a solid foundation, I could take an extended leave of absence and still pick up more or less where I left off. Since developing my running habit, I’ve taken at least two long running hiatuses (over a year each), and various small ones (a few months at a time), and although I have not worked back up even close to a 6-minute kilometer, I never lost that ability to build back up to the joyful side of running that leaves you feeling exhausted but strong and present.
It’s that feeling that’s the real goal.
Meaning, it’s okay to step away sometimes, and there’s really no need for guilt.
In fact, sometimes a break is mandatory. I used to get aches and pains frequently because I was really pushing myself. A little pain just means you’re breaking down your muscles to come back stronger, right? A little pain, sure, but you also have to recognize when you need to pull back and take care of your body. At one point I made a classic rookie mistake, letting pain build into full-fledged shin splints that left me limping around for a couple weeks. It was certainly not worth it – the recovery after that felt like a huge se
tback since it was frustratingly long.
It’s okay to pause, to recover, to process, and to allow everything you’ve learned to collate.
The Phoebe run of creative projects
I can’t help but compare running to creating. At the top of the post, I expressed my frustration with my progress in learning how to do my hobbies well. The solution is simple, right?
Just like training for a race with distance days, pace days, and rest days, I could implement “technical skill improvement” days and “unstructured creative expression” days. I’m sure it would benefit me greatly on those technical days to focus on one area of improvement at a time, study it, learn it, practice it, and allow it to compound on itself until I can really see results. Rinse and repeat.
I just don’t think I’m ready for it yet. I’ll certainly keep that solution in my back pocket, but in the meantime, I think I’m happy doing the Phoebe run of creative projects. If you’re familiar with the show Friends – The One Where Phoebe Runs:
“I run like I did when I was a kid because that’s the only way it’s fun. You know? I mean, didn’t you ever run so fast you thought your legs were gonna fall off, you know, like when you were like, running towards the swings or running away from Satan? (…The neighbour’s dog.)”
Tell me that’s not the joyful freedom that is at the heart of the creative process!
In running and in creativity
I love my creative hobbies, so for me, motivation is not an issue. Sometimes permission is, though!
Perfectionism brings this underlying need to produce and release “good” work, and to be always working on improving particular skills because the work is never “good” enough! I think if I want to keep engaging in my favourite creative hobbies, I need to give myself permission to let go of the limitations of perfectionism and just enjoy them.
That also means giving myself permission to take a break when I need to.
I still have big dreams I’d love to bring to life (creative ‘Sun Runs’, if you will), but I can’t forget the other hidden benefit of trusting the process: a genuine enjoyment of the process itself!
Thanks for reading this personal reflection! I’m off to lace up my runners… And perhaps pick up a paintbrush, too!
By the way, I write a monthly newsletter with creative encouragement and notes from my own creative sprints. If your inbox could use a creative cheerleader, join me here!
