There's No One To Improve
I used to have this reader, Eric, who was really smart about blogs and knew a lot about what other people should do. He confronted me with his critical prowess by chastising me for writing about writing and running. Well, if you’re still reading, Eric, you might want to skip this one. Or fuck off. One of those two.
For my third and final New Year’s resolution, I decided to run at least a mile a day. Today, I’ve run 24 days in a row. As a result of eating better and exercising more, my weight quickly dropped from 221 to 208 pounds. But then last Sunday, with no change in my new routine—in fact, I ran more—the scale began to ascend again, back up to 214 pounds.
This is exactly the kind of thing that trips people up and makes them quit. This is why we need motives for making changes in our lives that don’t dwell solely on vain self improvement. I don’t want to be better. I want to do things that seem and feel impossible. It’s a distinction that at first appears slight, but then it branches out, subtly, into a polar opposition. I don’t want to improve myself. I want to destroy myself.
“To study the Way is to study the self. To study the self is to forget the self.” —Dogen
It’s just not plausible for me to quit eating meat and run everyday. I love fat hamburgers and wasting away whole days on creamy clouds of tranquilizers. But that’s precisely the point. I hate being me. I want to be someone else. I think that perhaps my history of suicidal ideation has been a metaphor for a deep craving to be someone else, to keep moving down the road, to chase the horizon.
When I’m running and there are voices sounding off that urge me to quit, I frequently ask, “Who is this person who wants to quit running?” At just these moments, right on the cusp of those edges between what’s possible and not being able to continue, I brutally envision slashing my femoral artery or pointing a gun at my head and squeezing the trigger. Though violent—I sometimes even imagine leaving a flood of blood behind me—I think this imagery indicates the obscure religious fact that we are ultimately selfless. And not in a moralistic “be selfless” kind of way. What I mean to say is that it (the self) is just not there in the substantial way we think it is.
With no one left to quit or complain, all that remains is the same looping path that all runs follow—ending where they began. Suns set. Fires make ashes. Nothing remains and people rest in peace.
There’ll be days when I’m sick and days when there’s no time and there’s no possible way I can run every day. So I will. Not to lose weight, be healthier, or become better. I’m going to do it because I can’t. Because I’m impossible.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Reader Comments (14)
I wish I was you. I mean, I wish I had your resolve. I resolved to keep my house clean. By the 20th it was back to square one.
You ARE kind of impossible. This just could work!
O.K.
First time reader here. Wow. I have to tell you I have some of the same thoughts as you do. I imagine life is over and I am over. But more so, I want to be someone else too. I spend time dreaming of names. As soon as I remember a person by that name, out the name goes. Guess I want to be one of a kind.
I am rebuilding- should say building my life. I don't seem to have one imho because I am all alone and all a mess I have no style, no rhythm to my days. I'm changing that though,
Anyway, it was nice reading your post. Be you though. You seem like a nice you. :)
Maybe someday I can be me.
Don't do it.
(Just trying to help your motivation, but having one more person tell you you can't or shouldn't. You're welcome)
I run, but inside, in circles. The sidewalks here are slick with ice. I like to imagine that one day I will be indefatigable.
That's pretty much why I decided to run a marathon this year. Not because it's fun and it sure as hell isn't good for me, but because it's fucking stupid and painful and it dares me to fail. I figured that if I was running anyhow, why not make it hurt more? You have to hate yourself a little to do this kind of stuff.
Fuck jogging and eating vegetables. Join Fight Club.
Never pay attention to a scale. It will make you crazy. Muscle weighs more than fat. it could be that you have burned off the excess fat and are now building more muscle. The best way to track progress, if you do decide you need to, is noting how your clothes fit.
I am with you all the way, though. I have just been informed that due to circumstances entirely beyond my control, I now have to change my entire life. I've decided to change it as much as possible for the better. Because it should be impossible, too. But I'm going to do it anyway, dammit.
"I don't want to improve myself, I want to destroy myself."
I'm struck that this phrase made so much sense to me.
are you destroying yourself, or that thing in yourself that tell you what your self is? There is something in all of us in constant need of being extirpated. It is to your credit not to give in to the natural inertia of selfishness. In the meantime, those numbers on the scale are designed to distract you from the essentially qualitative changes you seem to seek. Weigh yourself in tons, as a fraction of a ton. The changes will assume their actual significance, which is to say, none.
i really loved this post. i think i just love how and what you choose to write about so i might not be the best critic. anyway... you described your history with suicidal ideation as "a metaphor for a deep craving to be someone else, to keep moving down the road, to chase the horizon" and something in my head went DING DING DING! because i completely identify. not to go too far into it but i too have danced a twisted tango with the lover death and have often romanticized its notion in much the same way.
just wanted to say thanks. and it's nice to be reminded from time to time that you are not as alone as you may feel.
I think this is noble. And since I'm reading in reverse chronological order, I'll spoil your surprise by saying, "Hey, you make it to February, big guy!"
don't think. run. not because you're supposed to or committed to, or working toward. none of that matters. let the drumming of your feet on pavement or dirt mark your steps toward feeling more powerful. because you are. you want. you know this.
your one escape key to the portal where nothing really matters but right now.
don't think. run.