Longtime readers (hi there!) will recall that TOA started exactly four years ago today. Happy B-Day, TOA! The natural follow up – how old are you now? – is less clear, being four on my first birthday. It’s a circular argument waiting to happen, a carousel in need of a quarter. I’m comfortable leaving the question open, how to account for when, because despite a thousand posts all I have to show for it is an ever-growing list of unanswerable questions. How old are you now? I’ll just add it to the list.
The questions go all the way back to day one. Why do people remember my first post being about tipping? And why do they forget that half of it was about calories? Poor Dunkleman. I forgot too, by the way, I just looked it up. I’ll settle for being happy that I still believe in what I wrote about tipping. As for the post itself, it was fine, but why was my first word 'hi'? Don’t ask me. I guess I didn't realize I’d look back, if I'd known I probably would have chosen a better word, possibly thus, or iktsuarpok.
Speaking of which, I remain puzzled by that entire Lost In Translation word bracket. What was I thinking? What could I possibly say in the semifinal round after having already written about each word… twice? One day, I’ll hire a research team to look into it, this commitment to write up to four posts about one word. I guess I grew out of it, eventually writing about books or sports or holidays, though you could argue I kept at it, posing a new question of what I could possible have to say after writing about next to nothing for four years. There aren’t any clear reasons for writing about Champions League Finals or podcasts or coffee. Why not just experience these things like everybody else, and leave it alone?
A giant question mark could (should?) replace every TOA syllable about biking. Tales of Two Cities is a mystery to me, starting with whether I’ve committed copyright infringement and including when I’ll turn it into a book. The reading reviews are equally puzzling, a befuddling use of time for one or even two people. If I liked a book enough to write about it, why not just reread it instead? The gold medalist here is running, looking back I’m completely stumped and can’t even form a question to express my confusion. My only defense is that this is arguably the most normal thing about TOA, these long, winding rants about wasting time and reducing future knee functionality inexplicably a popular niche genre. I guess a better question would consider the general state of personal nonfiction, and possibly probe into the sanity of your average runner-writer.
What, when, and why prompt interesting questions, but perhaps who opens up the longest line of inquiry. TOA is for… whom? I’ve read that everything is written to someone, and usually One, I think I’ve even written that exact thought myself somewhere in these endless syllables. I guess I forgot to question it because although some posts have obvious addressees, I can’t begin to form a coherent theory about for whom I intended this, or this, or this. Let’s not even talk about Proper Admin, or ask why I used ‘whom’ twice… well, thrice now… in the same paragraph, after successfully avoiding the question of its proper administration for these past four years.
At the very least, reader, you are certain, I can answer… where? Where is TOA? No, I cannot, I cannot where, because despite four weary years of this crap I have no idea where TOA happens. Did I write this post here in my apartment on a thirteen and a half year old Macbook? Or was it in my head, the structure being worked out as I strolled about this afternoon, sipping crap coffee made tolerable by a modest remedy of faux Bailey’s? I guess it wasn’t this morning, when I looked at the ceiling where I always see nothing, no words or ideas to look up to, unless you are the sort who believes ideas are ‘incubated’, a writer who cracks codes by sitting on it for long enough. My subconscious must be bored after nesting for so long, it must be a flight risk, and probably will go away, everything does, once it figures out… where.
I guess this means we’re left with how, the final question. How does this all happen, this mess of questions and confusions? I warned you all, I warned that it would be an awful blog, and now I continue to insist it is true, on average, despite all the lies, lying, and liars, but big surprise, spoiler alert, I don’t have a clue about how. I don’t know if I should be at the library willfully ignoring the public, don’t know if I should be sitting outside with a pen and pad in pantomime solitude, don't know if I should buy the best equipment to help me write from my apartment. I’m not sure how it gets done during the day or if I do any better at night. Sometimes I schedule posts weeks in advance while others get finalized minutes before my fake deadlines, but that’s not based on how I think one way or the other affects the product. This post took the same amount of time as this post, and I have no idea how. Maybe I’ll have these answers in four more years, though I’m not sure how I’ll get them.
So, four years of this and I only have questions. But I’m pleased to note that there is one thing I know for sure, one answer I have, and although I’ve yet to find it a question I’m sure the answer alone is important. I’ve learned after a thousand posts that the answer is the leap, the same today as it was on day one. I’ve had to make a leap, every time, and so it’s fitting that it all started on a leap day. The blank page is a leap, to discover the questions in the emptiness, and to accept the truth in the answers. The rough draft is a leap, to throw away your best because you can do better, and to have confidence that the well runs deep. The final product is a leap, to post an answer to an unasked or unknown question, and to have perspective that with time answers create more questions.
The biggest leap is the next day, after you’ve landed and found yourself right back where you started. This is the nature of the leap. The blank page, the rough draft, the final product, each leap brings us to the next, and with it the same looming questions. Can we leap again, to go around once more on the same carousel, with its ups and downs that always bring us back to the start? Can we fight our expectations and disappointments to begin anew? We are all beginners, I’ve said it before, we are all beginners, and beginning requires the leap.
Good luck to you, loyal reader. Not just on the way up, not just on the way down, you won’t need luck then, but good luck when it’s all over, and you’re back in the same place. Every day is a leap, but it’s much tougher than it sounds, so the next time you need to begin, remember that each leap is worth celebrating. Good luck, and happy leap day, or maybe happy holidays, just in case you don't celebrate it.
