Today, on a whim, I walked into the sports store and tried on running tights.
All I wanted was to find shorts that would stay up on my non-existent hips. Running is hard enough without having to hike your pants up every two minutes. But the young lady who was helping me assured me that I wanted compression tights.
Let me digress to say that I’ve only been running for two weeks. I like it, but I have no inherent talent for it. This is the latest evolution in my fitness revolution (which seems to involve doing things I swore I’d never do).
I donned a pair of pants that could have been painted on, and peeked my head out of the fitting room. “Is this how they’re supposed to fit?” I asked the clerk.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s right.” She looked me up and down. “Wow, your legs are so strong! Do you, like, do weight training besides your running?”
“Umm…” A moment of awkward silence passed.
See, I have legs like a speed-skater. As my Oma says, some people are just built to be Clydesdales. And though three months of lunges, squats and the like have certainly toned them up, well… I probably haven’t ‘earned’ them.
“No,” I said. There was no sense in lying. “I’m a rookie at this, really. I’ve been doing
calisthenics, or whatever, for three months and I just got into running.”
When she left I did a couple of jump-squats in front of the mirror and struck an athletic stance. Heck, clad in Under Armour, my legs did look pretty amazing.
You’re such a poser, I thought as I walked out of the store without the seventy-five dollar tights. You’ve been running for two weeks. Two weeks! This isn’t the first time I’ve thought this. Almost every time I go out for a so-called run, I feel like a fake. I’m just not good enough to be called a runner.
But is that true? Am I a poser? Or am I just a beginner? There’s a difference, right?
Because I can’t help it that I can’t run 5 kilometers. Sure, I let myself get this out of shape, but now that I’ve begun I’m working as hard as I can. I’m following my program with military precision, and I can honestly say that today I pushed myself to my physical limit.
Doesn’t sound like a poser to me.
I often feel like a poser when I call myself a writer, as well. After all, I don’t even have a published novel—yet.
But am I committed? Yes.
Orrin Woodward said:
Most people can identify what they want, some will even check out what type of commitment it would take to achieve it, but only a select few will apply the first two steps consistently in order to pay the full price. It’s not lack of talent or a lack of time or a lack of opportunities that deny a person success in the West, rather, it’s the lack of a singular focus on what one truly wants. A person must be willing to surrender who he is to become who he needs to be in the quest for significant success. This is a price that few are willing to pay.
A fake runs only when it’s sunny, and only as far as it doesn’t hurt. A poser writes only when there’s inspiration, plays the piano when there’s time, is a loving friend when it’s convenient—insert whatever end you’re trying to achieve. But if you are paying the price, you’re no fake. You may have a long ways to go—like I do (don’t I know it!). But you’re a beginner, not a poser.
I suspect that I will look back on myself, six, nine months from now, and laugh at my feeble efforts at running–writing for that matter. But it can’t be helped. I must suffer through the first few weeks of Couch to 5K to make it to the real running. I must hack out a hundred blog articles, and a couple novels in hopes of hitting the really good stuff.
So let’s be patient with each other, okay? We’re just getting started.
2 thoughts on “Are You a Poser?”
After 10 years of running I still think myself as both.
Really? You’re saying it doesn’t get better? 🙂