“It’s funny how all the runners and triathletes who follow me on social media have used the word achievement or a variant of it, to describe their support that I have a forthcoming novel.” I turned toward my partner and commented as we walked outside in the less oppressive heat of Qatar in winter, yesterday.
He is a triathlete and despite swearing that he wasn’t trying to make me a triathlete, bought parts to upgrade my bike into a triathlon one for my birthday a few years ago, when we had just started to date. I fell for it hook, line and sinker. We signed-up for a half Ironman in Goa and I completed it with a terrible time and with very little semblance of dignity. Even then, in the throws of a goddamn triathlon in India, stomach churning from too much curry the night before, I didn’t consider it an achievement to finish the race. I was just going along for the ride if I am being totally honest with you. And yes, I am slightly impulsive.
“Yeah, I would consider it an achievement to write a book, Bosh.” He laughs at my correlation.
“I suspect artist’s minds are different.” I counter, “I don’t consider writing an achievement. It’s a pleasure, like making beauty with words; kind of like a painter paints not to achieve a picture, but to appreciate it.”
Note: I am not purporting to be a visual artist with today’s black and white photo. I am a crappy visual artist; proportionally challenged and bad at picking color schemes – thus all photos on my blog will be a battleship black and white. The picture on the blog post today, I took after a run at Aspire Park. I was being lazy. It’s easier to just take a black and white picture than to find one on the internet, I figure. Especially if it has to be in a particular format or your web designer gives you a hard time. Ironic, isn’t it, the place is called Aspire Park? Aspire, achieve, milestone…all those words that don’t describe what I’m going after.