This is Western Coffee—notes on building the creative body. Last time: Parts. The whole series is here. Please share this email; you can sign up free below.
I’ve written less than usual the past few weeks, in part because after my big triathlon I came down with one of those viruses that settles in like a smog, altering the function of things without exactly shutting them down. Thus, after a couple of negative Covid tests in the first days I wasn’t feeling well, I proceeded to meet up with my friends in the desert instead of diverting home to rest, and I’ve remained in this state of compromise—not full steam ahead, not engines off, a lot of snooze buttons—since then.
Returning from California, I found that I would sometimes wake up feeling OK-ish, but then exercise and have to go recover in bed. I do tend to work out when I’m sick, but only in close consultation with my body—and the signals in this case were, and have been, confusing, with no clear case for calling everything off but also a recurring and uneven depletion. I’m conscious, because of several people in my life with chronic health issues and because of the conversation around long Covid, that this kind of ambiguity persists for many people for a long time, or a lifetime, and the last few weeks have added to my compassion for them.
One of the dangers of setting a big athletic goal—or a big creative goal, for that matter—is that it can distort incentives. I would have been more inclined to pause rigorous training completely if the biggest physical challenge of my whole life weren’t so close. I’m steering myself away from the language of “training for” one event or another, because what I’m training for is a rich experience of embodiment—but my equanimity isn’t up to making it cool to miss my first marathon. This is hell or high water.
Still, I haven’t stuck anywhere close to my training plan this month, and when I cross the finish line on November 5, it’ll be later, and quite harder, than I intended. There’s a particular tint to the frustration of spending more time than you needed to to get ready and then watching that preparation come a bit undone at the critical instant. You have to change the scale of time that you’re paying attention to, the period of the wave: This is all preparation for something else, maybe. Last month, as I mentioned, I ran the marathon distance by myself, just of a random Thursday morning. I appreciated it then, but I would appreciate it more now. I will appreciate it more the next time.
I’m thiiiis close to qualifying for the New York City Marathon on Nov. 5 as a charity fundraiser. Please help me by making a donation to the nonprofit Achilles International.