I won a 100 yard dash once in middle school. Got a shiny ribbon and stuff.

Now that I’ve started running regularly, I often find myself thinking about that.

I tend not to start any kind of new endeavor, whether it’s learning a new skill or improving my existing ones, unless I am absolutely confident I will succeed. I’m trying to get more comfortable taking risks with that sort of thing, but in general, I tend to stall if I’m not absolutely confident in my ability to succeed.

In the absence of real evidence suggesting that I may succeed with something, I frequently resort to making disingenuous arguments to myself, to support my position that I will succeed. The most common is working on nice-looking assets for a project before digging into code or story or whatever, so that I can look at the assets, and imagine that the finished, polished product that uses those assets already exists.

If it already exists, I must have been able to finish it. It’s sort of mental time-travel.

I think the 100 yard dash is another such disingenuous argument, but subtly different. At some indeterminate point in the past, I was singled out for being a successful sprinter. I could do this at one point. I just need to get that back.

The same sort of mental gymnastics apply to many things I do, come to think of it: I need to recapture the creativity I had as a teenager. I need to be the supportive, witty friend I was in college. I was a more daring cook ten years ago. I want my dancer’s body back, and I miss the focus I had when programming for DOS.

In all likelihood, I am a better artist, friend, cook, and programmer than I have ever been. I put a great deal more thought into taking care of my body than I used to. In all likelihood, I am steadily improving. But in terms of convincing myself that improvement is possible, it helps to believe that I am simply regaining skills I once lost. If I had them once, I can have them again, right?

Which is all just to say that it’s time to drop the reminiscing about some sort of youthful golden age and simply accept risks for what they are. Maybe I’ll sign up for a 5k in addition to the Warrior Dash next year. Maybe this training won’t go anywhere. Who knows.

In some ways, that makes it more exciting. More worth doing.