Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts

Sunday, February 16, 2014

Limits and Limitless

"THE MAN WHO KNOWS HIS LIMITATIONS HAS NONE" - Infinite Jest, David Foster Wallace

As an English student of occasionally the most pretentious variety, I've always wanted to study Infinite Jest at school. I spent the summer before freshman year trudging through the almost-1,100 pages, 388 footnotes, and I can only describe the experience as the best kind of overwhelming. DFW's ability to create the strangest, most captivating cast of characters, convey their interior states, and create his own world so similar (and frighteningly so) to our own is what makes this ambitious novel so successful. Reading Infinite Jest the first time is hilarious and disorienting -- the first 200 or so pages setting up the rest of the book at incredible speed. It's a test of will and attention: IJ requires tremendous trust on the reader's part. The separate stories may not connect clearly or even completely, but everything that the reader needs is in that book somewhere.

This semester I'm fortunate enough to be enrolled in Walking Infinite Jest, in which we're reading IJ and conducting site visits to discover DFW's Boston. Rereading IJ is a time-consuming but incredibly rewarding experience, and I'm already making new connections, tying up more stories, noticing more wonderful ideas. When slowly chugging along through my first assigned reading, I came to a footnote that referenced a mathematical theorem of Georg Cantor that states that between any two numbers, no matter how together they are, there are an infinite number of points. From this theorem comes the motto of the tennis academy in IJ: "The man who knows his limitations has none." During my first read through the book, I hardly noticed it. I had larger worries, like figuring out what the was going on, and who the hell was being introduced. 

Maybe it's because I can now focus more on the language of IJ itself than the plot, or maybe it's because I'm at some meaningful point in my life, but there's something about that idea that has stuck with me these past few weeks. It seems almost inconceivable that no matter how something is bounded, between its limits there is an infinite number of things. As someone involved in a competitive sport and attending a competitive school, pushing your limits seems like the only thing you can do to get to the top. Want that PR or that BQ? Everything tells you that your mileage needs to be higher or the intensity of your workouts needs to increase. Your training schedule looks inflexible -- mileage goals and tempo runs and long runs and intervals already inalterable -- and rest days don't even seem like options. At school sleep sometimes gets deemphasized with readings and papers always due, with places to go and people to see. Pulling all nighters or staying up way-too-late doesn't always produce the desired results. You can sometimes succeed by defying limits, trying to push out the boundaries. Sometimes though you can just end up injured or exhausted or worse off.

Maybe instead of seeing success as breaking boundaries or transcending limits, we can see as triumphing within our confines. Our greatest successes cannot come from ignoring the natural boundaries of our mind and body. Cantor said it in his theorem: there is an infinity within a set of limits. Know yourself, know your boundaries, and anything and everything is possible. It's so incredibly difficult to see the potential from within though. We envision our desired results, the breakthroughs, and the personal bests, and we sometimes think that to achieve it all will require some Herculean effort, something that might very well break us. We set our goals and we sometimes plan the most rigid, most intense path possible. It's valiant and it's inspiring, but it's irresponsible ambitious. Maybe instead of trying to break our bodies down in training, to hit the mileage goals that wear us out, to run our repeats too fast, we can work within the our own bodies and abilities.

It's more difficult than it seems to keep yourself in check though. Many of us bring an unrivaled intensity to our running, for we always hope for faster, stronger, farther. It's difficult to stay within your limits, to train not just intensely but also intelligently. Especially within the past month, I've dealing with respecting my own limits lately. Missing a slew of days with strep throat and dealing with some foot troubles have driven my nearly crazy. The mileage and workout goals I had established had to be adjusted and readjusted, but the goal itself hasn't changed. Instead of more weeks at peak mileage, I'm spending more time building up and getting in quality workouts. I'm learning to take easy days truly easily, listening to my body when it needs rest. I'm trying make smarter decisions, like running inside instead of risking life and limb outside during snowstorms. Learning what the body can and cannot handle has been essential to my marathon training. Running logs and workout plans and lap splits, for as useful as they are, can so often lead us to overtrain and overstep those boundaries. Just because I realize and respect my limits doesn't mean I'm limiting my goals. Within this body and this mindset I'm working to grow. Within these limits there's infinite potential, and if I run smart enough and hard enough, any goal is possible.
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Thursday, December 19, 2013

Beyond Words

It is with great relief that I say the semester is over. Finals finished. Trek home completed. While I wish I could say this semester has been easy, it's been anything but easy, what with a fairly demanding course schedule, marathon training, being heavily involved at BC. For as stressed and as exhausted as I might have been at times, I'd say that it was worth it all. Worth the long runs on some struggles of Sundays and the paper edits at midnight and the longest life talks with roommates and the existential crises induced by an abundance of work and a scarcity of time.

It might have been the late and hectic (looking at you, Black Friday) Thanksgiving and the significant amount of work and the insufficient sleep finally catching up with me, but by last weekend I could feel the burnout. Only for so long can I write and edit and study without feeling spent. By the end of it all I was sick of words. Editing some fifty pages of writing and dissecting a lease word-by-word had done me in. When I ran after the weekend snowstorm I was more anxious about falling in the Res from the unplowed, icy path and not being able to turn in my final papers and sign our lease. While I'm satisfied with my work and stoked to have a home for next year, it's difficult to convey the immense relief I felt after turning in my final papers and signing our lease on Monday. Out of words. Over words.

Don't get me wrong. Words are everything good. As a human, reader, writer (and English major?) words are all I have. A semester of battling with language, struggling with syntax, fixing poorly translated French, inspecting leases, editing emails, and establishing meaning had left me wordless.  They're imperfect, but they're all we have. Sometimes it's exhausting to work with words -- to define ideas, to communicate clearly to make meaning. Ask my roommates how many times in a state of desperation I have questioned "What is is?" "What is what?" That might just be all the modernist and postmodernist works I've read over the past semester, but sometimes words just don't seem to be enough -- they struggle to mean. But that's what I love about working with words, written or spoken, scholarly or personal, to create something meaningful. 

It's exhausting though. For all the things I had to write and edit during finals, I needed that time away from the words and the analysis and the meaning-making. Often people seem to forgo exercise when the work and the stress accumulates, but running is exactly what I need when I find myself overwhelmed with work and words.

Running is the only time where I just be. Often I lace up with the intention of thinking things through or planning a paper, but nothing ever happens. For a few strides thoughts can start forming, plans can be made. It all dissolves into motion though. Running alone on pavement or trails, my mind doesn't wander. It's my body that wanders. Empty of thoughts, merely a body in motion. Hours of over-thinking exchanged for an hour or two of pure being. Maybe it's endorphins or something else biological, but it feels right to run. It's not about thinking, about defining yourself. It's ambiguous, I guess. And while ambiguity is problematic when working with words, that state of being running can reach is relief. Over-thinking limits, it separates. When running I become part of everything. No thoughts to limit or to stress. Pure motion, empty of thoughts, simplicity of being. A body breathing, moving, being. Out of the head, into being. Don't get me wrong though, racing and training require one to get in one's head. The sport's as psychological as it physical. But you can still get lost in the workout, in the race. Where pace calculations stop and the pain diminishes and it becomes simply about moving, about being.

Words are inadequate to describe the state. Running is singularly being in a way that I usually can't. With all the work and the stress that comes with college and life right now, running is what enables me to do things that I love. It's worth it all. When running I'm out of my head, out of words, over over-thinking. Simply moving. Being. 

For now though, I'm stoked just to be at home. Ready to recharge for next semester and to start the training cycle for Boston. No more books to read or papers to write right now, just some much needed reconnection, family and friend time, and holiday traditions. 

Hope everyone is finishing finals or enjoying their break and holiday season. 
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