i have been here, at my desk, looking at an application for a writing group for approximately 70 minutes. should i even bother with it? i honestly wonder if i have any real talent. Andy's stories were really good, but i don't write like that. if only i could master the short story. what an addicting form of expression. i kick myself every day i don't finish a My Turn for Newsweek. several hundred have come and gone in the form of unfinished imaginings. it seems my creativity stops at the conflict. description and setting? no problem. it's writing the actual plot of the piece that is difficult. my unconquerable barrier. frustrating, yes; however, i rarely leave myself the time and flexibility to attempt finishing a composition, so i have no one and nothing to blame but myself and my lack of patience.
i am beginning to allow myself the freedom to pursue some of my dreams. next on my list of things to do before i die is run a marathon. this will take some time and an awful lot of self-discipline, but i'm going to begin training. soon. in fact, i'll begin tomorrow morning. i will run two miles tomorrow without stopping. three miles if two isn't so bad, and four if three isn't a challenge. hey, if Tim can ride his bike from Washington to New York, i can run a silly marathon. my short-term goal includes running a half-marathon next spring. i figure i have roughly 5-6 months to prepare for it. after that, i can continue to build endurance, longevity and speed and possbily run in the St. George or the Logan marathon next year. i guess we'll see what happens.