My beloved writing class ended this week. When it's all said and done I have one brand new story I'm really excited about, one new story I'm worried might be a noble failure and a set of revisions/suggestions for a third story in draft form. My plan for the summer is to work on revisions for the latter two stories, and maybe try to submit the first story and see if I get any bites (and of course try to kick around some new ideas). One lesson from the class: writing requires discipline and regularity. I need to be better about writing consistently throughout the week, rather than binging for a few harried, exhausting nights in a row.
I had been planning on trying to take the next-level workshop in the fall, until I learned that I have somehow won a spot in the lottery for this year's New York City marathon. So now I think my fall will be devoted to running the marathon. When I did it in 2007 (copiously recorded on this blog) it was one of the best experiences of my entire life. Back then I had to run 10 races in the preceding year in order to guarantee my spot; this year I fell into it through the dumb luck of a random drawing. I think I could use this kind of long-range goal, this kind of physical challenge; something to remind me that I'm more than a brain with an email account. (Plus, this year I can actually take ice baths after my long runs, since we now have a bathtub.)
I don't think I can swing a writing class as well as marathon training. That's one too many selfish endeavors for someone who is still trying to do a good job at work and be an equal partner at home. I'm excited to get some good writing done over the summer -- this is the year of writing, after all -- but the jolt of this marathon entry is an opportunity I can't ignore. Not this year.