On walking. And finishing.

I went out walking the other day. As I set out, my destination seemed very far away. I wondered if I would ever get there. I kept walking. 

I felt a tweak in my hamstring, and my ankle twinged. I kept walking. 

Soon, I got a rhythm going and started to feel some heat build in my body. The twinges disappeared. I kept walking. 

Before long I was surprised to discover I was halfway there. I kept walking. 

I got too warm and I took off my jacket. I started feeling like I’d been walking a long time, with no sign of my destination in sight. I kept walking. 

I got lost in my thoughts and forgot to watch where I was going. Somehow I managed to stay on course anyway. I kept walking. 

And then, all of a sudden, I was there.


I finished my book this morning. And it was just like that.

I'll have more to say about it soon, but for now, I am happy, and I am tired, and surprisingly, I'm thinking more about the process -- the walking -- than about finishing. Maybe that's because it doesn't feel real yet. And maybe that's because it isn't truly done. The first draft is finished and I know there is still a lot of work ahead. But the hardest part, the part I wasn't sure I could do, is done. I can't believe I did it.

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