Why Don’t I Just Write a Book Already?

Why writing a book feels like running 300M hurdles in track & field (and why I’d rather just pull a hamstring in my 40’s).

When I was in elementary school, I was on the track team. As shocking as that might seem to those who know the present day 43 year-old-me, I ran short distance sprints and I fucking loved it. 

I still remember walking out onto the track, seeing all the people in the stands, finding my lane next to the other runners, the anticipation of the gun shot start. The 4 x 400 relay was my favorite. We’d practice that batton hand off at practice over and over, a thousand times. No one wants to be the one who fumbles the pass. I can still feel my body twisting around to see my teammate approaching. 

I start to jog and look back with my hand outstretched - come on, don’t drop it, don’t drop it. I speed up as I feel the metal batton hit the palm of my hand. I grip it - don’t drop it, please don’t drop it - and simultaneously turn back around, pumping my legs as hard as I possibly can. That all out sprint if fucking exhilarating. 

Then another pass - please don’t drop it, please don’t drop it, please don’t drop it. And then the next guy is off and I’m just gasping, hands on my head, willing them to go faster. I can still feel the complete bliss that comes from pushing every muscle in my body to move as fast as I can - no thoughts, just fully focused movement. Precise. Fast. Free. 

I went for a walk today at the local high school track and smiled at the memory. I decided to pick up my pace and see if I still had it. Just kidding. My hamstrings would absolutely not allow that. 

I walked by a few hurdles someone had left out on the side of the track and remembered watching the other runners do hurdles. I always wanted to do that but never had the nerve. I could barely pass the batton without tripping over myself – there was no way I wouldn’t absolutely destroy myself on hurdles. So I just watched in amazement. I wish I would have at least tried but being seen trying and failing wasn’t really something I have ever been able to do well. I think they call it being vulnerable, I don’t know. 

I saw a photo online recently of a little girl copying the ballet dance pose of a beautiful, giant statue of a dancer and the caption read, “Never be afraid to be seen trying.” 

I thought about those hurdles, and so many other things in my life. I think I most often go after things with quick results because I’m afraid to be seen trying, for fear that I’ll also be caught failing - or assumed to be failing in the process. I always thought the process looked too much like failure.

 I get a pang of jealousy when I see people writing books and when I question my lack of published work, I realize how long it would take to write an actual book, edit it, revise it, polish it and then finally publish it – and I know exactly why I haven't done it. Writing a book is a very long process with absolutely no guarantee of success (which, to be fair, depends entirely on what your definition of success is). 

Writing a book feels a lot like running hurdles to me. I could probably do it – I know I have the raw talent to make a valiant attempt – but I’d probably get hurt in the process and it would bruise my ego more than I’d like. Is it worth it? I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just go set up those hurdles on the track tomorrow.

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Other things (Mother’s Day edition)…

• On Being a Mother by

  Alex Elle
  - always saying just the right thing at just the right time.

• Top 3 Mom Hacks by the incredible

  Priyanka Mattoo
  - I will be trying tip #2 immediately!

• These deliciously juicy mothering poems by

  Elise Powers
  are everything.