The Discomfort with Being Perceived

And what it looks like to no longer care

I ran the Des Moines Principal 5k this past Sunday and I achieved a personal record. Or, I should say, a personal record in this current body, which is a much different body than when I was consistently running 4 years ago, 8 years ago, 12 years ago—a different body than the one that has fallen into this relationship before.

I also hit a different milestone. One that somehow feels both momentous and insignificant in all the ways an ego shattering moment is supposed to feel.

My husband stood on the side of the street and cheered with my sister and her kids and her niece and nephew. I approached them with my head up, my arms pumping, my legs driving forward like the Nike run app has told me several times since I decided I wanted to fall in love with running again.

I even let myself give them a little fist pump. My sister caught it on her Instagram story and, after much deliberation and close examination of how my body moved slowly down the streets of Des Moines, I shared it and let hundreds of other people know that this is what my body looks like when I’m trying something uncomfortable.

Can you find me?

I am realizing that 2024 has become the year where I attempt to grow comfortable with being perceived.

There’s an allegory here with how the releasing of my creative energy and the challenging of myself to run have coincided, how much I’ve worked to rid myself of the inclination to turn from struggle in both endeavors. Balancing a busy writing schedule, clawing my way back to inspiration when it feels lost. Falling short in distance but still lacing up my shoes again the next day, resisting the impulse to compare myself to others.

Becoming a person who feels solace in the process rather than absolution in the destination.

All that is to say: the running process has felt great this week and the writing process has not. But I’ve returned here to the page because this is where I know myself to be home.

I have a quote from Michael Weber on a sticky note above my desk that reminds me why I’ve opened my heart to this space:

“I’m no longer scared to write poorly because the worst feeling is not writing at all.”

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Here’s where I need your help in this process.

I could write a million things about filling the creative well, keeping my mind open to the hint of inspiration in the air, all of the cliches you can imagine, etc. But what feels most right is putting my body here, eyes open, ears listening, doing the work and finding what the world wants from me.

Would you answer a few questions about what you want from me and this publication?

What would you like me to write about more often? What do you prefer I don’t write about? I’m open to any direction you can give me. Please—leave me a comment!

An opportunity for paid subscribers

Iowa Writers Collaborative Holiday Party

The Iowa Writers Collaborative members and our alliance partner, Iowa Capital Dispatch, will hold a holiday reception on December 13 for our paid subscribers and donors. Meet and mingle with the brilliant writers forging a new way for media to thrive in Iowa.

We will gather in one of the newest buildings on Drake’s campus, the Tom and Ruth Harkin Institute for Public Policy, 2800 University Avenue, Des Moines. Please let us know if you can attend. Click:

Holiday Party RSVP

If you live outside of the Des Moines metro area and would like to take advantage of a discounted room at the Home2 Suites, near the Institute, please indicate so on the RSVP form.