Commitments are strange and wonderful things. They are shortcuts for deciding, deciding in advance to do something, deciding now so that you don’t have to decide later, deciding in the past so that you don’t have to decide now. I don’t feel like writing today. But I’ve committed to writing something everyday. I can question the commitment, of course, or I can honor the commitment and write. Write anyway. Write even though I don’t feel like writing.
I’m choosing the latter, because I think my committed self will prove my fickle self wrong.
I remember training for a marathon and being on a strict schedule of the days and distances that I would run. There were many days that I didn’t feel like putting on my shoes, getting myself out the door and running, but once I was on the trail, I never regretted it.