Marathon Endeavors

Baroy ran the LA Marathon yesterday, successfully concluding his self-imposed challenge to run the New York and LA Marathons before his 50th birthday, which is in October. He put forth that challenge during last year's LA Marathon, after running just two miles at a local track, and feeling the need to push himself a little further, a little harder. My reply to him was then, and has been every since, that if this is to be his mid-life crisis, and it doesn't involve expensive cars or cheap women, I'm all for it.

I am extremely proud of him. I'd say excessively proud, because I'm brimming with it today, but the truth is, it's not excessive: He deserves it. It was an amazing goal to set, and he stuck with it through everything--employment ups and downs, depression, the worst rainy season LA has seen in I-don't-know-how-long. He did it.

Of course, this makes me think about my own current goals, not one of which I've met. I've gained back all of the 14 pounds I lost last fall. I still haven't finished or even much advanced my book series proposal. I haven't gotten very far on my 'memoir.' I haven't even started a novel. I'm still flailing helplessly in a job I've grown to dislike, overwhelmed with work and ennui. I haven't even found the time to finish a ridiculous series of posts here in my own blog. I'm a little disgusted with myself, if truth be told. I've gone for long walks, something I promised myself I'd start doing to relieve stress levels and burn some calories at the same time, less than once a week. I'm unhappy with my body, and that's not something that happens often. I'm not that hypercritical, usually.

Some of my disgust is unfair: In the last couple of months, I've made a relative boatload (i.e., it's a boatload to me, not so much to most people) of money for freelance work that I'm enjoying. But even that is just work for work's sake, since it's not going under my name. It's not really going to advance my career any. But it will pay for some stuff that I'd like to get done around the house, like one of those solar light tubes for our dark kitchen, and maybe even central air and heat. And that's worth a lot to me.

But other parts of the disgust are absolutely fair. I waste so much time in an average day. If I took all the hours that I spend futzing around on the Web, checking to see if blogs have updated, even when I know they haven't, or playing stupid games online, I'd be checking items off my to-do list left and right. Just the hours I've wasted on online solitaire alone would have gotten me through half my book project.

I'd ask where my self-discipline has gone, but really, I've never had any. Still, it's disappointing to lose what little drive I had, and to watch things I was passionate about just a couple of months ago fade into the background. It's especially disappointing when I watch my husband set his sights on a goal and keep chugging along, undeterred by anything, until he reaches it.

I need more of that in my constitution. I need to finish at least one of my own personal marathons. I need a reason to feel excessively proud of myself again. I need to do SOMEthing.

I need. I need and need and want and want. I long. I long for...what? I don't know. But lately, I feel like my life is all about longing, and I want it to stop. I want to stop reaching forward all the time. I want to live now and do now and stop needing and wanting and not doing. I'm just not sure how to start, or that I have what it takes to cross the finish line.

But, still. Baroy ran the LA Marathon yesterday. I'm so extremely proud of him.