I feel totally uninspired right now... I am just writing because I know I need to so that I can become better. I have an idea for a topic, but I don't feel ideas and emotions within me that are screaming to be transformed into the written word... still I've got to keep going.
Today I went for a bike ride. I awoke from a nap and had a brief argument with my apathetic self. My inner Richard Simmons won out, and before long I was donning spandex and reaching for my bike. I didn't feel inspired to do so. In fact, I was still tired and wanted to sleep. I felt heavy. As I ran through the course of the upcoming ride, I felt overwhelmed as I considered the burning legs and aching lungs which were about to become a part of my day. No matter, knowing it was good for me I had to get going.
My spring semester of college in 2007 was the apex of difficulty in my years as a student. I was sick of being lost all of the time and feeling that I was in way over my head in Advanced Calculus II and Linear Algebra. For heavens sake, I was a valedictorian at my high school, wasn't I supposed to be putting up a better show than that? Quitting wasn't an option, though. I looked for new ways to survive. At times, it was almost physically painful, but I kept going.
Spring semester 2007 was one of my best memories. Bike rides like the one today are some of my most prized battles to remember. Essays like this one, written through inspiration deserts, though not always any good, are my favorite reminders that I am committed to building an interesting and meaningful life story.
The monotonous days that lack inspiration are become some of my favorites. Not necessarily when they are happening, as they still compel me to wander around with a "baditude" that sometimes involves whining and howling like a mashed cat. The reason that they are my favorite is because they always seem to have a payback... and usually it is a good one.
Before the severe thunderstorm that rolled through and cancelled the 24-Hours of Rapelje mountain bike race I was in this last summer, we had a beautiful afternoon of riding. The winds were almost nonexistent and the temperature was nowhere near that of the inner circle of hell that is sometimes achieved on the plains of Montana. Each of the laps that I rode were a blast. What made them especially amazing were the videos that were playing in the on-board DVD player of my mind.
I remember a particular point in the race in which I was racing up and down a series of hills on a nice piece of singletrack. As I cranked hard on the pedals, I started to think back to the first of my regular rides that I began on my new mountain bike that March. I remembered riding the streets of Oamaru with exhausted legs from a hard day of riding. I remembered my long ride in the desert hills by Alexandra in which I became a bit lost and ran out of food and water before eventually finding my way back to town. I recalled pedaling and balancing with all my might as I completed a series of deep and improbable fords through the Ahuriri River. I recalled the series of rides that I sometimes had to force myself to do after returning to the United States... some through the 40-degree rain of early May, some through the arid, blast-furnace, 35-mph winds that grace eastern Montana, and some through lazy and dead-calm evenings.
I recently read a book that mentioned that a good life story is made of memorable scenes. That moment on those hills by Rapelje, in my opinion, was a memorable scene. The thrill of bouncing up and down the hills at top speed is interesting in itself, but when coupled with the reflections of all of the "training" rides that had helped me achieve the skill and fitness to make the intensity of that moment possible, that's what made it memorable. That scene was paid for by days of pushing through numbed fingers, burning lungs and chapped lips, and the countless rides that happened regardless of lack of inspiration or a surplus of lethargy.
Memorable Scenes are sometimes earned during the weeks and months and years before they actually happen. The scene itself is just the payback. Thats why, in my opinion, the hard moments are some of the best... they create Oscar Winning scenes.
On my way back from my student teaching in New Zealand, I found myself thinking back through all that I had done during my time in college. The MSU graduation, the one in which I would be walking, was happening as I traveled home. I was now officially a BS in Mathematics. It meant a lot to me, not because I had a diploma or a new title, but because Advanced Calculus, Linear Algebra, and Honors General Physics II were dang hard battles and I had survived them all. They were monotonous, humiliating at times,... the works, but they had made me stronger. The flight back from New Zealand was just a standard flight, but what made it a memorable scene for me were the battles that had happened for the previous five years.
And now we are here, and I am still writing. The end is near and though I now feel somewhat inspired from some of the ideas this essay has forced me to explore, this is still largely not a memorable scene. That comes later... maybe. For now, I will continue to write. I hope that both you and I enjoy the payback if it eventually comes.
No comments:
Post a Comment