Orbital Velocity

An Inspired Moment

Mine has been a life of ten thousand inspired moments, but too few finished projects. Reading back through my journals from past years, a common theme quickly emerges: self-flagellation for my failures to do more. I think much, but do little. I dream stories but don't write them. I write stories but don't share them. I start projects but don't finish them. Over the years, I've come up with a term to describe this phenomenon. I have what I call a "low conversion ratio". Lots of input: reading, thinking, dreaming. Not much output. And by "not much" I mean not enough to make me feel like I'm doing a decent job of converting my talents and time to things that improve my life and the lives of those around me.

This is the story of turning an inspired moment into reality, through the most direct means available to me. The moment: me, lying in bed early this morning, awakened before my alarm by the feline nuzzles of Gracie, who wanted me to help her get her timed cat-feeder open -- thereby defeating the purpose of the timed feeder. For some time, I had been entertaining fantasies of getting out of bed and exercising. I pictured a vast menu of cardio-intensive activities, but did none of them. My mind wandered next to unrealistic visions of creating a quirky, nerdy series of self-improvement videos for YouTube, in which I demonstrated that you don't have to have a gym membership in order to get fit. You don't even have to have gym shoes.

Then came the inspiration. Instead of lying there pretending I'm someone I'm not -- I hate seeing myself on video, I don't even like hearing the sound of my own voice, and I don't want to wake up my wife with ridiculous early-morning antics of trying to make a video -- why not write about it? Writing is a thing I do. I've been doing it since I was about nine years old, when I would write appallingly violent comic sketches to entertain myself and amuse my older brothers while we were all on long car rides. And why not share what I'm writing, as I write it, as a way to motivate myself?

I suspect nobody will ever read this. And that's okay. After all, who would want to read about a flabby middle-aged man's pathetic attempt to get to a point where his heart doesn't pound after climbing a flight of stairs? But I'm hoping that the act of putting it out there, where someone might read it, will be enough to motivate me to "write another chapter" -- to stop what I'm doing, get some exercise, and then add to my story in such a way that it could maybe, just possibly, help one person out there who also has a hard time reaching orbital velocity.

Speaking of which, what's up with the title? It's simple. Orbital velocity is the speed an object must attain in order to break free of Earth's gravity, such that the planet won't just pull that object right back down and smash it to bits. It's my analogy for turning an idea into a thing, for managing to push that idea hard enough and fast enough that it escapes the trap of perfectionism and takes on a public form that means it can no longer be squelched by simply turning over in bed and deciding it was never really that great of an idea in the first place.

Which leads me to one other piece of the moment of inspiration. I have a lot of problems, as an author, but I think the biggest is my unwillingness to share what I've written. I'm a victim of my own unrealistic standards. This is a project that feeds two birds with one seed. Not only does it motivate me to squeeze exercise into a life that seems hardwired to keep it out; it also gives me a forum for writing where I'm not striving to create flawless art. I'm just trying to stay alive a little longer, enjoy the benefits of a moderately healthy cardiovascular system, and share a few thoughts on life along the way.