I rarely exercise.
I’ll do a workout regimen for three to six months then I won’t do shit
for another three to six months. Interestingly,
this is exactly how I approach writing: three to six months on; three to six
months off. Now, I’m in an exercise up-swing
phase, and I want to do more hiking.
Since last summer, I’ve gone on about six hikes of varying
difficulty. That isn’t much, but for a sedentary
person, one hike a month is a decent start. Every time I went on a hike, I lamented the best hike
I ever took.
A few years ago, my husband and I found a trail that was
about 30 minutes outside the city. It wasn’t
too crowded, too easy, or too rigorous. It
had some open areas and some green, shaded areas. It was perfect! Somehow I neglected to save the directions,
and over time, I forgot the name of the trail.
Last summer I kept trying to find my perfect trail, but I
couldn’t. I kept thinking the trail’s
name was bear-something, but there are tons of trails named bear-something. Exercise and writing are strongly correlated
for me. If I’m writing, you can
guarantee I’m exercising and vice versa.
Since I was writing consistently last summer, I wanted to hike, so I
could think and flesh out some character development and structural ideas. Needless to say, I hiked but I did not
re-discover my perfect trail.
Last Saturday I was certain I had found it. I did my research and had my directions—I was
ready! I headed toward the area at about
eight in the morning. It all looked
familiar. I got so excited, but the
moment I pulled into the lot I knew it wasn’t right. This place charged an admittance fee. My perfect trail was free and the trailhead
had little picnic tables near the parking lot across from the restrooms. I pulled out my phone and Googled other trails
in the vicinity. I ended up driving
around for three and a half damned hours!
I drove to four different trailheads and two different county
parks. I worked myself into a
grown-woman pouting fit. (I secretly
love grown-woman pouting fits!) I was so
frustrated and angry with myself for letting my perfect trail slip away. Today
the weather is perfect, I told myself.
Why can’t I go on a hike? Everybody
else is hiking.
Despite being histrionic and bratty, I’m actually pretty self-reflective. I know this unhealthy behavior is my
M.O. I set my mind to something, and I
am completely inflexible until I get it.
The longer it takes for me to get it, the more obsessive I become. This is precisely how I have approached publication. I will send out a short story or essay, and I
will be paralyzed until I get a response.
I will cease writing, and I will wait and obsess. After receiving a response, which to date has
always been a rejection, I am not only paralyzed, but I am an emotional fucking
wreck. I berate myself for not being
good enough, for not writing enough, for not being committed enough. Thankfully, I have learned not to remain in
this state for long because I also know that I am most effective when I am calm
and centered. The problem is this: I
have not been calm or centered for much of my life, so it is easy for me to
think myself into a chaotic state.
That afternoon, I meditated and chilled the hell out. I wrote out everything I could remember about
my perfect trail. I knew I was in the
right area, so I wrote that down. I remembered
there were houses nearby and large red rocks, so I wrote that down then went
about my day. I hung out with my boo,
got a lil nookie. Then I remembered that
there was a creek that revealed itself after a steep decline on my perfect
trail. I wrote that down and went on
doing something else. Eventually, I
remembered the trail name didn’t have anything to do with bears at all. It had “deer” in the title. Then a few hours later it came to me: “Deer
Canyon.” I had a trail name and a
general area, so I got on the Internet, looked up photos to make sure I had the
right trail and sure enough, there it was—nuzzled in the calm and centered
corridors of my mind.
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