It's 9:05 and I just returned from a walk. Why this is important is because I set out for a walk at 8:04 and wanted to walk for an hour. I hiked around the muddy trails underneath the redwoods that are just footsteps from our door and made it back exactly in an hour. Reflecting on my satisfaction with my perfect return time I remembered that this past week, when running I'd set out for an hour run and when I returned to my car from the trails I was 4 minutes short of an hour. So, what did I do? What any self-respecting first-born perfectionist would do of course, I ran down the road for two minutes in one direction and turned back toward the car for the remaining two and stopped running when my watch said it'd been exactly an hour. Why this craziness I thought? Why does it have to be exactly an hour (or half-hour or 45 minutes) to count, why not be happy with a 57 minute run? The funny thing is I know a lot of runners who also go by this to-the-minute philosophy. Maybe it's a product of running races that are timed to the hundredth of a second, but more likely it's the fact that most runners I know are type-A perfectionist competitor types. Sure, there are also non-type A runners as well, but I'd venture to guess that those are the joggers out there, who stop mid-run to pick a flower or enjoy the view or say hi to a friend or other such nonsense.
For the record, I'm done trying to be perfect. In running this means that even though I don't have the ideal amount of time to train for an upcoming race, I'm still going to enter, knowing and--here's the clencher--accepting that it won't be my best race or even best possible effort, but it will have been worth it to do it anyway. In real life this means that I'm going to stop refolding the towels after my 7-year old 'helps' me fold clothes. I'm going to leave the crumbs on the counter occasionally and not compulsively rearrange the refrigerator after my husband goes grocery shopping. I understand now that trying to be perfect has had an adverse affect on the things I've tried to do and it's seeped into my attitude toward myself and others. At times rather than help me achieve it has kept me from starting. And so, I'm ready to head to the land of mediocrity. I'm not getting rid of my watch, and I'm certainly not giving up and buying a pair of velour of jogging pants, but I am ready to stop beating myself up over doing things perfectly (or that ever elusive 'right' way). I will be happy with having made it out to the trails, regardless of the number of minutes I spend on them. I will take in more of the scenery and appreciate the colors and smells and fresh air both on the trail and in life, reminding myself that striving so hard for a perfect outcome only guarantees failure and angst along the way, for is anything ever really perfect?
Well, this didn't quite turn out as I'd wanted it, but if you'll excuse me I'm going to head out for a 47 minute run.
1 comment:
Interesting thoughts for the day! I was wondering, though, would it be different if instead of the land of "mediocrity," you thought about it as the land of "good enough?" Seems like being "good enough" can be a *good* thing, in that it means having space for the imperfections of life, and actually helping your kids accept their own imperfections and some of the more painful random realities of life.
I guess in our language, the word "mediocre" just has negative connotations with complacency and luke-warmness. Perhaps you've found a more liberating meaning of it, and you aren't seeing it that way. In coming to terms with my own perfectionism, I just liked the idea that somewhere between the poles of complacency and perfection there was space for doing my best and having that be "good enough." Which is actually more the tone of what it seems you're writing, whatever words you use!
Nice to see you back here again :)
julie
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