I guess that the first entry of a new blog should be a philosophical self-examination of why it is the author feels compelled to wax poetic--or to helplessly try to do so--in such a public setting. I've read plenty of the excuses and feigned justifications. Some assert that "there seems to be a general interest in what I'm doing," "this is a space for me to vent or let off steam as much as anything," or that "it's merely an avenue to organize some facet of my life, a setting in which I can declare my goals or intentions and find that the accountability offered by viewers will offer some additional motivation."

Obviously, despite the fact that I've put these "statements" in quotations, they are neither word for word nor meant to be attributed to specific individuals. I feel, personally, that some are more valid than others, though that's not necessarily criticism or endorsement. I don't actually know many (if any) of the people whose blogs I frequent. I'm not going to offer some pretentious judgment, asserting that some are more genuine than others in narrative, expression of internal dialogue and feeling, or motive for writing. I can look at myself alone and question my reasons for so doing. Moreover, I'm not going to act as though authenticity in this setting is a moral imperative and that lack thereof constitutes a personal/character flaw (though I intend to express myself genuinely--this isn't some facebook or twitter post written with the intention of inducing others to respond).

Which brings me to my personal motive for choosing to express myself in a public setting.

I'll begin by stating that I have serious doubts that anyone will actually read this. At present I have little worth saying. Though most of that which I write here will be related to running, racing, and training, I'm sure the other aspects of my life will seep into the fold. That's probably, beyond simply "to be expected," predictably understandable and even fitting. Running is just an aspect of my life, but it is a huge aspect just the same, one about which I'm probably as passionate about at this point of my life as any, and one that offers glimpses of what it is "to truly feel 'alive' in the moment" which I find myself longing to occasionally share.

Which brings me to the next. This is to be taken with the above assertion that I highly doubt I'll end up with much, if any, real viewership. Over the last several years, even if most strongly during that last eight months or so, I find myself given to expression. I'll be running along or in the midst of something--driving, deferring a homework assignment, drifting through a shift at work--and find the trail of thought that I'm following somewhat worth documenting. Maybe the experience is worth preserving. Maybe it is a glimpse of experience that I simply feel compelled to document. "I was a writer in my former life." I find that urge simply to document the present that it might be at a downtrodden later point something to which I might return. I've always done this in spiral notebooks. Where inspiration would hit, I'd stop and jot a few notes to which to return and expand upon later; maybe I'd naw on it, turn the thread of conception over in my mind until I find the opportunity to scribble those prompts to which to return. But the content itself would either be buried anonymously in random notebooks, or would fail to come to fruition--'what is the point if it will never again see the light of day?' So maybe in a sense, that distant and unlikely possibility that the occasional entry carries the possibility of being viewed will motivate me to spin theoretically, wax poetically, or allude to the ethic of experience in the present, where the inclination or urge to do so should strike.

I guess that my reason for doing this is vague and, probably, evolving. Even so, why not?

So I'm coming off a three month layoff necessitated by a fibular stress fracture in my left ankle. It'll probably be a while before I have to much that is actually worth documenting in the physically experiential sense. We'll see what comes up between now and then.