Yesterday, I went out for a run. It was just a squeeze-one-in sort of a run: I was in the little park near my office, hoping to get to enjoy the tiny slice of spring we were having before 80-degree temperatures were forecast for later (hello climate change -- 80+ in Mid-Atlantic EARLY April ?!?!?! )
But the weather, it was just soooooo nice. You could actually smell the flowers blooming. I checked my trusty little Moleskine planner (yeah, I'm an old-school type when it comes to that) and saw I didn't actually have any meetings until 10 a.m. It was also spring break for the local high schools, which cut the part of my professor job that involves collaborating with them down. I decided to indulge: I was going to take a luxurious 45 minutes to myself.
Ever since I quit the gym for good during the early-pandemic + early pregnancy stages of my life, I have used a lot of the Peloton app's outdoor feature (I am SO not a bike person but this section at least keeps me in some variety of outdoor music-led exercise and yoga), so I scrolled through their 45 minute offerings and clicked on what I thought was a 45 minute "walk + run," as I certainly haven't run for 45 minutes straight since before the Tiny Overlord made her appearance (hi, I'm a working mom, and I count it lucky if I get 5 minutes to shower alone).
I was really digging a playlist started up by a coach I enjoy, Susie Chan, and was not paying that much attention to her cues at first. But after a few minutes, I heard her say the words "interval run." Actually, "intermediate interval run." That sounded like the hardcore opposite of what I thought I had picked, but at this point, I was enjoying the vibe of the tunes so much I did not want to quit.
"Whatever, I'll just run until I'm tired and then walk when I want."
But. Here's the thing.
I did not really get tired. I had no expectations I would be able to run those 45 minutes at all, let alone do them with speed bursts.
But the air was so perfect. I was so happy to sneak in a long slice of time with no responsibilities to anyone but me.
So, I just kept going. Enjoying the trees, swinging my ponytail on purpose. Not looking at my watch.
When I the music stopped, I went to click the program off, and saw this:
"WHAT THE ACTUAL ..." I thought. That was a mile time I had rarely seen even in my pre-baby, hardest training days. That was close to two minutes faster than my typical (often stroller-pushing) running mile pace.
So, I remembered sometimes, if my signal is not great, the app gets pretty fritzy about exact times. Usually, though my AppleWatch is better, so then I checked my watch, and saw ...
DANG. That was THE LONGEST AND FASTEST I had run in 3 years.
And all when I had 0 expectations. I planned on walking at least half of it. I wasn't looking at my time at all -- I knew I had like a day left of pink blossomy goodness on the cherry blossoms, so I was looking at that gorgeousness.
I said I was a professor. I teach freshman composition. This might not seem at all like it is related to running, but it is, in so many ways. People think writing is a "talent" and that some people are "naturally good" or "bad" writers.
But any writing teacher (or, I daresay writer) would tell you that is as big a load of crapola as the idea that grammar is the most important part of wrting well. Oh, no sweetie. Writing is about showing up and going through the process, and anyone can become a stronger writer just by showing up and doing the work, just as we can all build ourselves as runners by showing up and doing the work.
So many of my students come to my community college classroom ground down from a test-heavy writing culture and a high-achieveing community that expects the "right answer" in one go. So much of my discussion, then, focuses on the idea that to really grow and learn new forms -- to gain the rhetorical flexibility and awareness they'll need for college and job and just life as a citizen in this crazy world -- they have to let go of previous expectations.
Try new things, I always push them. Experiment a bit. Don't worry about the grade -- yet. You can always revise. We write in Google docs, so you're not even wasting paper.
But as always, the teacher is the worst student. When I came back to running, I was one ball of expectations. This is what it NEEDS to be NOW, was my mindset. I had an expectation of what it "should" look like, and that kept me slow, and grumpy, and certainly not growing.
And then, when you let that expectation drop, suddenly, you fly.
