That I Would Be Good

This past weekend, I ran in a 10k race sponsored by the Legacy Foundation and Circle of Friends.  It was an all-women’s race, so we got lip gloss in our race registration bags instead of the usual Power Gel, and they handed out roses at the finish.  A smattering of minor celebrities, including Vonetta Flowers, Miss Universe, an actress from one of the Law & Order franchises, and a gangly, scantily-clad teenager who turned out to be one of the Hearst heiresses joined in the anti-tobacco fanfare before the race. 

As I was walking home after finishing, I was beating myself up a bit for having run slower than I had wanted to – I do this after pretty much every race.  I was passing by the Museum of Natural History, criticizing myself, when a woman on a park bench called to me.  She was talking on a cell phone, but she motioned for me to come over to her.  I was wearing the medal that they’d given to all the race finishers, and she asked to see it.  She looked it over and then looked at me and said, “Very nice.  You go, girl.”  I smiled and thanked her and walked on.

I chuckled as I walked away.  It’s not like a 10K is very impressive, I thought.  Also: “You go, girl”? 

And then I stopped myself for a second.  When was the last time, I wondered, that I let myself be proud of something I did?  When was the last time that I told myself that I did a great job, instead of just thinking of all the things I could have done better? 

When I ran the marathon last November, all I could think about was how slowly I had run it, how I had to walk through the Bronx because I thought I was going to crumple to the ground from the cramp in my side.  My time was respectable, but I was embarrassed to tell anyone what it was because I didn’t think it was good enough.

When I graduated from law school, I sat in Avery Fisher Hall, marveling at all of the incredibly smart, witty, accomplished and impressive people in my class.  I thought about how amazing it was that I had been admitted to that school with those people – that someone for a moment thought that I belonged there.  And I thought about how I didn’t think I belonged there.  There must have been some mistake.  I wasn’t good enough. 

When I graduated from college, on the other hand, I didn’t think a thing about it.  Graduating from college was a given.  It was expected.  And it’s not like I went to Yale or became a Rhodes scholar.  I squandered academic opportunities and slacked off at times.  I had been a collegiate athlete, but I’d had to quit because of an injury.  Not.  Good.  Enough.

And long, long before that, when I was five years old and about to perform in my first ballet recital, I spent hours upon hours practicing my part.  I had a tape of the music, and I would stop it and rewind it every single time I messed up.  It could be two seconds before the end of the piece, and if I made the slightest error, I would back it up and start all over again.  Tears streamed down my face, and I got more and more frustrated with myself, but I was going to get it right, even if I had to practice for days without sleep or food. 

Of course, that slavish devotion got me somewhere: as a teenager, I became a really good dancer because I never accepted less than the best from myself. I worked my butt off in class; I danced through any kind of pain, my feet bleeding through my shoes, my blackened toenails falling off after a performance.  Even so, I didn’t let myself admit that I was good - I knew I could always be better, I could always do more.  It was all-consuming, but isn’t every true love? 

Nothing in life has captured my passion to the same degree as ballet; but my ambition and drive persist in everything I do.  Sometimes I think these are good and important traits – isn’t it better to be kind of an obsessive nut case than to be a directionless lazy-butt? – but other times I wonder if I can ever be happy when I can’t sit for a moment and pat myself on the back, even just a tiny bit, for my accomplishments, however small they are in the grand scheme of things. 

The thing is, there’s always more, something better out there, something to reach for.  I know that it’s ok to be in the race and not win.  But I know I won’t be satisfied if my life consists of just being in the race.  I want to win sometimes, to achieve.  I don’t want to get old and look back and wonder what in the world I’ve done with my time.  I want to do something.

So many of my peers have already surpassed me; they’ve found their passions or their strongest skills and they’re using them to excel, to be prominent in their fields.  I’m doing ok and all, but when someone I know publishes a book or sells a screenplay, something in me dies a little because, WHY ISN’T THAT ME?  But it also drives me.  It keeps me writing.  When I read an article in the law journal or alumni magazine about the progress of one of my colleagues in the legal realm, it keeps me pushing at work.  It giveth and it taketh away.  It gives me motivation, but it takes away any pride at what I have done. 

My family and friends, of course, love me and support me, no matter what.  It’s ME who imposes these impossible standards upon myself.  Maybe, though, for me, it’s ok to think that “good enough” really isn’t enough.  Because if I don’t set these standards, what will I be working toward?  Against what will I evaluate my performance?  Just doing stuff willy-nilly is not enough.  I must push myself further, because I want to do something, something Big or at least something Meaningful.  I don’t know what it is yet; but I hope that one day, hopefully soon, I will find it, or it will find me. 

Until then, I’m going to keep pushing.  But I’m also going to allow myself to be satisfied once in a while, however briefly.  I’ll stop and rest, just for a minute.  I’ll catch my breath.  I’ll look around.  And I will think to myself:  I am good.  I am strong.  I have come far.  I have done much.  And I will keep going.

Comments

[hnrjmpr]

I've often felt the same way. I feel like the older I get, the more directionless I feel. I have a great job and everything, but I always feel like I should be doing MORE. It's weird, I felt the SAME way when I ran a marathon this year- my first one. Why didn't I train harder? Why wasn't I faster? When the reality is, it doesn't matter! But in my head, it does...and I don't know how to alter that.

P.S. I just finished that same Bill Bryson book. So good! Still have to get the Africa one.

[lawyerish]

Hnrjmpr (Honor Jumper?) -

Bryson's Africa book is just ok. It's like 3 pages long, so you don't get the full Bryson effect. But I think the proceeds go to some Africa-supporting foundation, so it's worthwhile in that sense.

I don't know how to alter this thinking, either. I mean, I know how to do cognitive behavior therapy, but the thing is, I'm not 100% sure I want to alter this behavior. And I am told that if it works for me - i.e., keeps me motivated - then it's probably ok. I just have to not work myself into a lather over being imperfect. I have to say, I have gotten better about it as I've gotten older. When I was in high school, I used to FREAK THE HELL OUT over the tiniest things (like being 5 minutes "late" - that is, only 25 minutes early - to ballet class or getting a 97 on a test instead of a 100). It was not a pleasant way to live. So my "mellow" is still more keyed up than other people's, but that's probably ok.

I'm glad you're out there reading! :)

[chirky]

You know, I am so proud of your accomplishments - whether big (law school!!) or seemingly small (a 10-k!!). The thing is that you are making a difference to those whose lives you touch, if even in the smallest way. Keep at it.

[leahpeah]

that i would be good is one of the best songs in the entire history of songs.

so hard to accept what is good about us and so easy to find what we perceive as failings.
xo

[Jonniker]

First of all, my space bar has a crumb in it, so, forgive me if iwritelikethis on occasion. Second, TypeKey locked me out or I *so* would have written a tome yesterday, because all I can say to this is: yes. Yes, to all of it.

I think that the perceived failures and failure to recognize what we *have* accomplished comes from being highly intelligent and productive and Type A - I really do. Think about it - what should be valued, like a successful marriage, being a good person, having interests and generally being a high-functioning part of our society is merely a *baseline* for people like us, who expect the extraordinary of ourselves every day.

It's hard to revel in the ordinary, and realize that "good enough" is actually "pretty fucking amazing" when you think about it.

I think when you get old and look back at your time, you won't think of these accomplishments that you should have done, or should have won or should have anything. I think you'll look back and wonder and think that maybe enjoying life - playing, laughing and just being a good person - is the greatest, and possibly hardest - accomplishment there is, and I think you will have succeeded.

[hnrjmpr]

Hi there again. hnrjmpr= hunter/jumper. It's an equestrian discipline.

Love Jonna's point about not having regrets about what you've accomplished so far, which, from what I've read, sounds like a lot.

Do you feel like your way of looking at yourself also makes it extremely hard to accept compliments? I feel like when people say I do something well, all I can think of is how much better others are than me.

UGH. Need to stop that! :)

[lawyerish]

Jonniker - thankfully, even in spite of all my Type A-ness, I am able to appreciate and embrace and enjoy all the small moments in life (like the moments you just wrote about yesterday!). Everything you said is right on. Our baseline is way the hell up there. I used to look around in high school and think, THIS? People are content with THIS? And so many people just stayed on in our little Southern town and had families and that was enough for them. I just couldn't fathom it.

Hunter/Jumper - Are you a horse person? I always wanted to be into horses, but the closest I could get was riding a tired old nag at Girl Scout camp. And collecting a scandalous number of Breyer horses. And, um, pretending to BE a horse, as I have previously described. Gah! Anyway, I definitely have SO much trouble taking compliments. I say "Thank you" like a nice girl does, but then I mention how it's not that big of a deal or how it could have been better. I am sure I make the person giving the compliment wish they'd kept their mouth shut.