I am a writer. Not that I get paid to do so. But I'm a writer. Obviously, you're reading something I've written right now. Some things I write to share with other people, some things I write just to get it out of my head, and them immediately wish I could burn it...never to think about that thing ever again. Over the years, it's become a comfort to me. And through my writing, I have gotten support, feedback, contradiction and compassion...none of which I would have received had I not written it down.
There are other aspects of my life that seem to be recorded for posterity...or other pursuits as well. I write down what I eat to keep track of calories. I (occasionally) write down how much money I spend to keep track of my budget. But oddly enough, the one thing I haven't done well at is writing down how many miles I ran, rode, or swam.
My Grandma, yes, the crazy Grandma that roller skated down a huge hill, wrote everything down. For years growing up, I was amazed at what she wrote down. Every single day, she would write how many steps she would take, with the goal of being taking a certain number of steps every day for exercise. And I'm not just talking about the times she actually went for a walk, the woman included the steps she took to go to the bathroom, or out to the kitchen. EVERY SINGLE STEP. Beyond her exercise goals, she still wrote everything down. Of course, she and my grandpa came from the era where most of their courtship was handled from letters. Unfortunately, we'll never know her side of the story, because after my grandpa wanted her to throw out his letters, she did the exact opposite. She stashed his letters away, and burned her own. This is one of the most unfortunate things I can imagine, because there was one afternoon growing up that my family sat down (sans grandparents) and read my grandpa's letters. It's the hardest I ever remember laughing. Beyond that, it's the hardest I ever remember my dad laughing growing up (which is saying something if you know my dad). To date, there are still journals of my grandma's that my parents refer back to when the need arises to know when a certain cousin's birthday is, or when some other significant life event happened. Even when they built the house in Florida, my grandma wrote down every single thing they paid for, and how much it cost. Looking back, it may not all be relevant to life today, but, it's still interesting. It's like a history lesson. Ok, it's not like a history lesson. It IS a history lesson.
So...what is my point here? Some would say that I write a lot of stuff about my life down. And I do. But I think I could do better. I'm not about to start recording every single step that I take a day, or writing a daily journal of what I do. But something I have found helpful is to be able to quantify what I have done. Maybe if I had recorded how many laps I had swam last year, I would have been prompted to take action about quantity there before. Or knowing how many miles I've ran to train for a marathon. It doesn't matter if I share it with anyone, but it may actually help to keep track, keep myself accountable for what I do. So I've tried to do...better...this year so far about recording what workouts I've done when. So maybe, by the time September rolls around, and I (keeping all fingers, toes, and all other appendages crossed) cross the finish line at Cedar Point, I'll be able to say...yes, today I crossed 140.6 miles today. But x amount of miles is what the journey really included. Or something prolific like that.
I try not to dwell on the past very often. It happened, it's done. Let's move forward. But my history, history in general is something that we carry with us no matter who we are, or where we go in life. And there is something to be said that we can't really move forward until we know where we've been. To put it another way, I've been down that path before, and it didn't work out so well, so why would I be crazy enough to do it again? So every once in a while, I find it useful to take a look back, see where I've been, where I am now, and reflect on the journey to get from point A to point B. I'm not the same person I was 10 years ago, I'm not even the same person I was a year ago. There are definitely pieces that are much the same, but I've grown a lot. Changed, some might even say. But I do carry those pieces of me moving forward. The written reminder just helps to remember it correctly.
No comments:
Post a Comment