that's pretty much how it feels, all over.
"I like rain."
"That's because you never go out into it."
"I don't like being in the rain. I like the effects of it, though."
-- Darin and I, discussing the omnipresent rain. Running news:
10.6 miles. Ouch. Ouch. Took about 110 minutes.
I woke up at 8:11 this morning, which wasn't as terrible as it might have been on a sunny, hot day--it was cold and overcast, the way it's been for the last several days, so starting a long run that late (did I actually apply the word "late" to 8 in the morning?) wasn't a problem.
I start off going a mile to the west of our house, and a little rain drizzled on me. I found myself thinking that if it got worse I was going to go back home; I am a Certified California Weather Wimp® and going for a run in anything less than stellar conditions is an effort in and of itself.
The drizzle let up after not very long, and I did the run pretty much as I planned. The first five mile circuit went pretty well; the second circuit was tougher and I took walking breaks in the last two miles. This is why I force myself to do long runs like this: to acclimatize my body to them. I couldn't do three miles without taking walking breaks when I started, so why shouldn't ten miles have that effect?
By the time I was done, I was so tired that I went back down to lie in bed, after stretching. I had to stretch--I could feel my muscles wanting to retract as far back as they could. I don't stretch enough; I know that. I don't make it a part of my routine and I tend to think of it as "other." It's not; it's a vital part of a workout. And just think, if I do my stretching well enough and often enough, I can be that much more fun for Darin. (Okay, maybe you don't want to think about that.)
I laid in bed for a few hours, reading and generally not moving. Darin wanted to go eat, so I finally roused myself at 1pm--I couldn't believe it was that late. Usually I'm ravenous after a long run like that. Yesterday, Dave Feldman stopped by as Darin and Fernando were working on something, and he and I were so hungry we left to go to brunch and let Darin and Fernando follow on their own.
I have to do longer runs. Really get my legs into shape.
The best thing about long runs is that they make the shorter runs seem like they're no effort at all.
I got lucky: this afternoon the heavens opened up once again. I was glad I'd been out on the road for two clear hours.
I'm getting lots of comments back on the draft of my script that I asked people to read.
I don't know how to take comments. I'm interpreting them right now as, This entire script is hopeless; please dispose of it in the nearest trash bin ASAP. I keep in mind that I always think this whenever I receive anything that is not unqualified praise. And I'm usually suspicious of unqualified praise too, so there you go.
What I have to do is: let the comments come in and sift through them a little at a time. Apply the "Is there anything to this?" mental test--if I automatically reject it, I don't think there is; if I say, "I don't want this to be true," there's a problem.
There's also the rule of three: If one man calls you an ass, ignore him. If two men call you an ass, check for hoofprints. If three men call you an ass, go out and buy a saddle. When several people all mention having the same problem with an element of the story, clearly there's something wrong with my execution of that element, no matter how right it may be for the story. So I have to make a note of all of those things, too.
This is why you have to let your stuff go out to get critiqued somewhere. Because as long as you're the only one looking at it, it's perfect, and you can live in the happy fantasy that everything has come across exactly as you meant it to. Then other people look at it and go, "Mmm, no...definitely not." This is why a lot of stuff gets stuffed in drawers (usually for the best): because it's hard to hear that you still have work to do, that you didn't channel it correctly from the heavens the first time.
|
|
|
|
Copyright 1999 Diane Patterson
Send comments and questions to diane@spies.com