When I was training for my half-marathon, I had to run 4-5 times per week. Sometimes that was real early, sometimes it was racing to see if I could get done before sundown. I had a goal, and that goal was 13.1.

I got there, on a sunny September morning in Lansing, running next to my brother. My lungs and legs conditioned to long distances in my pink shoes.

I miss running in a lot of ways, but it's not super practical at the moment. The night is too dark and the area not the safest and man oh man is it cold. Mostly I miss that it didn't take too much thought, just one foot in front of the other and at the end of it, I'd accomplished something.

Writing is different. I was having a conversation with my roommate and I told her that I feel as if I have something stuck inside of me that wants to get out, but every time I try to write, it is like...literal trash. Or incoherent. Or meaningless.

My roommate told me that she had read some article that said that the great artists didn't wait for inspiration to hit them...they just wrote, or painted, or carved or whatever artists do.

So I guess this is my "keep me accountable" post. I want to write every day. HOPE YOU'RE READY.

Kind of like running my half, I'm hoping the continual pounding of my fingers against this keyboard will make it conditioned to spouting ideas out of my little brain.


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