I've always been a sprinter.
When I was a child, I could never come even close to first place in the long distance runs at school. However, in the short distance races, I consistently placed in the top three among the girls. At the time I was frustrated that I couldn't go long distance. Now, I appreciate that I more gifted burst-power exercises. (It helps in disc golf. ;)
After realizing this about my body, I also connect it to my mind. I don't like long-term projects or deadlines that approach within weeks or even days. If I can't complete a project within one to two days, I'm less likely to finish it or enjoy doing it. I think the reason I enjoy this blog and have stuck with it so long is that it's not so much a year-long project as it is a daily project. Each day's post isn't connected, unless I make it so, so it feels more like a single thing each day. I don't think about making it to a year. I just write each day.
I guess I'm really thinking about this right now because of summer school. I'm taking my second, first-year English class, and to be honest, I'm really stressed right now. Even though the course only lasts for six weeks, the two projects I'm to create span a couple weeks each. It's counter to how I naturally function. I just want to write it all up in one to two days and then move on. The way the system is set up however, I can't do that.
The thing I despise most about the class is that they want you be creative and think outside the box, but they have a specific way they want you to do it. So really, I'm just stuffing myself into a box still. But a vague, we-want-you-to-do-it-this-way-but-we-won't-tell-you-exactly-what-that-looks-like way. That is the epitome of my distaste for college English. It's so vague. The more I'm in school the more I appreciate and enjoy the clear cut objectives. Even if that objective is do whatever you like.
That thought reminds me of ninth grade English. I had to write several papers, but there are only two I remember: a research essay, and a creative short-story. I loathed the essay with every bone in my body—I still loathe research essays actually. There were parameters set, but again, so vague. Now the short story didn't have no parameters—there were several objects I had to work into the story—but otherwise, I had free reign. I could write anything I wanted.
I feel like those ninth grade assignments exemplify the paradox of my brain. I either like tight parameters with very clear instructors or doing whatever I so please.
Maybe my problem this school session isn't so much with endurance as I thought. I can break a marathon into many smaller sprints. However, I'll have a lot of difficulty running with my arms tied behind my back instead of moving them however I choose.
Well, I guess I have to go run now.