If you’ve ever spoken to someone who is passionate about running, you would know that their devotion can sometimes border on fanatical. I know, because I was once one of them. A runner. Not just any, I might add, but a long distance runner, all of whom I’d wager are in fact some kind of crazy. After all, who else would willingly submit herself to physical and mental exhaustion on a regular basis in the hopeless attempt to improve upon an unattainable level of perfection?
Us writers and runners share something in common, and I don’t necessarily think it’s rooted in masochism. A little known Korean gem, Ping Pong, depicts that ‘something’ perfectly. During the film’s climactic face-off, the protagonist ferociously engages his opponent in what is essentially the match of his life. Just as the action peaks, the two competitors are suddenly and unexpectedly whisked away to what can only be described as nirvana. I recognized the place immediately…
I imagine you would too.
The burst of creativity we long for, those fleeting moments of free-flowing verse – these things are not divine channels we alone have the privilege to experience. They are flashes of pure, concentrated, and unrestrained love. Be it love of sport or love of craft, to experience them is to know beyond all doubt that we must continue pursuing them for as long as we can.
Because otherwise, what’s the point?