I have to admit. I’m a nerd and a lover of research papers. I wrote my first research paper on the Pony Express in 6th grade, followed by a few others, until in 10th grade, I wrote my first 30-page research paper on the Pyramids. While my teacher was a historical genius who didn’t mind my excessive research and inability to narrow my topic, I can now recognize that I was a little overboard in my zeal and filled my paper with way too much “interesting” information.
While I find that the love of research is great because it causes me to enjoy the process of learning and then communicating said information, I can find myself overwhelmed with so much to say and too few pages in which to communicate it.
Last night Adam challenged me to put together some writings that I’ve been dabbling in and ruminating over for a while. It’s not that I’ve not wanted to write a book on this topic or that I’ve intentionally put aside another 60-page, quite unfinished project that’s sat untouched since it exploded in my mind in January. Sometimes, it’s just hard to know where to start, to know how to proceed, and to not get sidetracked with the extensive research, the unlimited bits of information, the boundless hypotheticals…. my mind.
In some ways, I feel like a runner without any races…. I’ve trained for so long in writing–in prose, in fiction, in research, in communications—and yet, since I’ve never put my work out there for the public eye (besides little publications here and there) I don’t know where I rank, and the thought of setting myself up to be the last in the 5k or the weak link in a team event scares me.
I’ve learned to love the race— the early morning jitters as I eat my eggs and rice and pick out my not-so-classic running clothes and headband and head to the track. Racing has become familiar. I know who I’m up against, I know who to pace with, I know who I’ll be able to finish ahead of, I know who I am as a runner.
Since when did running become more of a place of confidence than my writing?
Practice makes perfect, I guess. I had to take those long run times and low rankings before I ever saw the top half of the results sheet.
Here I am.
One fact. One fiction.
One bare bones. One fairly developed. Both overwhelmingly full of information and research and passion and direction.
He doesn’t give us passions for naught.
Pray for me as I start racing in the writing world.
Making My Boast 
Although I have never gotten anywhere NEAR the level you have in exercising, I feel like I can relate because there was one point where I was pretty fit, working out and going on bike rides a lot. Yet I wasn’t working on artwork or writing, two things I’ve always been interested in. Somehow it was easier to do physical work than to whole-heartedly follow after some actual passions of mine. There’s always that problem of knowing how to start, and how to proceed, like you said. Somehow, it’s a little scary or overwhelming, which seems weird since it’s something I am (or you are) interested in.