bing

There comes a point in the lifespan of every writing task I undertake when I finally locate the starting block, and the gun magically goes off. I normally start in the middle of things, and sometimes I even map out the end before my beginning really comes to me. Which of course usually changes everything completely - unless I find some way to connect the ending that I started writing before I discovered the beginning, but usually, trying to do so creates a mess that is more Pollock than Kandinsky. Ha, look at me trying to be all art-scholarly.*

Anyway, I am not fashioning some great work of fiction, I'm just getting the ball rolling on the second installment of my running column. It tickles me just to type that out. My running column. If you knew me just a year ago, you may have died laughing at the notion. This is how the column was born:

One December day, I thought to myself - we've got to take this running somewhere. Besides to the park or the treadmill. You know? Somewhere. Two renowned couch potatoes running our asses off - we need to proclaim it to the world. Me: "I want to run a marathon." Him: "Oh NO." Me: "And I want to write about every step it takes to get there." Him: "Now, that sounds awesome." (We really do say ultra-corny things like that to each other.) I DM'ed Nadine Kam on Twitter, and the rest is history.

'kay, time to write.

*In defense of my extremely limited art smarts, can't we all agree that Kandinsky at least looked like he was trying?