Wine And Dash

Motivation sure does come in all shapes sizes and flavours doesn’t it?

I mean some people are inspired by the successes of their peers, mentors, and idols.

Others perhaps by heart wrenching stories of those less fortunate, disfigured or maimed.

What? You’ve never temporarily considered joining a bouldering club after hearing of a rock climber who lost both arms in a vicious cougar attack?

Some of us find our drive and our passion, our paths, so to speak, in the facebook status update of an ex-spouse and/or profile picture of their new lover.

Call it stalking, obsessing, whatever. I call it channelling negativity into positive energy/creativity and productivity. Turning Lemons into Long Island Ice Tea and what-have you…

Others of us, we go deeper. Much deeper. We search, delve, immerse ourselves, and research the world’s resources.

We scour and strip our souls bare to find the inspiration and motivation we need in order to be all the best and most amazing us that we can be.

As many of you know, I have a million (or at least 5 or 6) projects on the go at all times and despite my attention “issues” and chronic laziness, I strive to reach several creative goals at once, all while plugging away at my so far rather futile attempt at blossoming into an amateur marathon runner. Or, if nothing more, avid neighborhood jogger.

But I’m at a loss. My enthusiasm wanes. It flips and flops and it lays like a beached whale, gurgling ad burping at me from time to time.

I’ve overwhelmed myself with aspirations of running the New York City Marathon.

I’ve under-whelmed myself by taping photos of athletes on my “vision board”

I’ve temporarily motivated myself with new iPod play lists and cool running gear, to authenticate myself and instill a false sense of self-worth.

I’ve set small goals and baby steps but even these molehills felt like mountains towering over me and overshadowing my dreams.

I agreed to start with a 5k years ago but it seemed so daunting. Why? I don’t know. Maybe it’s the letter K.

I realized this morning that 5k is almost exactly how long my morning run is. You know, on the mornings that I actually run, which are far and few between. Also, by run, I mean jog. Except for when there’s a hill, in which case I walk.

But still, if I can Jog/walk 5k in under 40 minutes on a bad day, surely it shouldn’t, at least in theory, take a tremendous effort to train for a non-stop 5k Jog/Run… right?

So what’s my problem? Or should I say what WAS my problem?

Because thanks to having a very special friend who, either out of compulsion or a rather sad and so far mostly fruitless but ever welcomed attempt to win my affection, steals magazines for me from airport lounges on a rather regular basis – I have come to discover the Godsend that is otherwise known as…

Canadian Running

What’s so different about this particular running magazine? You might ask.

I know this might sound weird but I just feel like the editor gets me, you know?

I know this might come off sounding a bit narcissistic but it’s almost as if he is, with his content placement, talking directly to me.

There is finally a magazine out there that does more than just inspire me to consider turning an old spice-rack into a patio wall-bar, whiten my teeth with banana peels, bejazzle a picture frame with bottle caps, hand make condoms out of vegan sheepskins and sass up a cob-salad with spicey mayo.