“You have knee pain?” asked the young dermatologist who had just come in to the exam room.
“Yeah,” I replied. “But it’s only after I run.”
She nodded, still looking over my intake survey.
“So it’s exercise induced?”
“Oh, so you’re a runner.”
I half-nodded, feeling a bit like a fraud. Being called a runner was like being called a writer.
Me? Really? Sure you’re not mistaking me with someone who is serious about running/writing? Someone like Haruki Murakami*? Okay, maybe not Murakami. I shouldn’t compare myself to a novelist who runs marathons annually.
I write and I run. I enjoy both and know I can improve, but right now I’m not dedicated enough to feel comfortable when someone calls me a writer/runner.
I’m going to change that and earn both titles. It’s going to take a lot miles and pages.
No problem, I have plenty of time.
Thanks to Oso recommending Murakami’s memoir What I talk about when I talk about running. It was a good read.
6 thoughts on “Pages and miles”
You’re a writer. Accept your destiny, young padewan…
I am both. And so are you.
I am neither. 🙂
I hope to start running after the baby is born. I will be coming to you for advice. 🙂
Glad to hear you liked it. And looking forward to going for a run with you this winter.
I used to run, but then it got way to hot out here…maybe I will start again. In my opinion your a good writer Cindy, I enjoy reading your blogs.
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