“You don’t believe in me!” I said.

He replied that he did believe in me, but that I had a habit of setting incredibly lofty goals and it could be better to break it down and start with smaller goals to build from there. He reminded me that I was also trying to write a book while moving while wedding planning while working an intense and stressful job. I knew he was right but that moment I was feeling salty and plagiarized the quote to him that “You have to shoot for the moon and even if you miss you land among the stars.” (Or something like that). Only after did I acknowledge the truth in what he was telling me. You might have a better chance of even reaching the moon if you do a few practice rounds first.

So I signed up for the LA Charity Half-Marathon, fundraising for Team TMF to help those affected by neurological diseases (Alzheimer’s, MS, Parkinson’s, ALS). It had been awhile since I ran consistently so I completed a few morning runs with Fran. At first I was out of breath and irritable. Then, while we were in Miami over the winter holidays I ran around the neighborhood I grew up in but kept tripping up in my new sneakers. I thought I just needed to break them in more.

One day, I was running at the park and around the fourth or fifth mile I tripped again but this time couldn’t catch myself. One second I was enjoying the clear, sunny day and the music in my headphones. The next second, I was lying nearly face-first on the ground, my nose dangerously close to the asphalt. At least I stuck my hand out in time, scraping only the palms of my hands and my left knee.

A middle-aged Argentinian couple walked towards me and they helped me stand up and asked if I was ok. “Oh yeah! I’m all good! Thank you!” I said in Spanish, limping away while blood oozed down my leg from the open wound on my knee. I washed it off once I got home and felt like an idiot. Why did I sign up for a half-marathon in the first place? What was I trying to prove to myself? Why wasn’t I in better shape? Why couldn’t I run even four miles without tripping all over myself?

These thoughts plagued me and it took some time to reassess my intentions and goals.

Why did I sign up for a half-marathon? No one was standing over my shoulder and saying, “You better run this half marathon, or else!” I don’t have most social media platforms anymore so it wasn’t due to some kind of social pressure either. No one was doing it with me. No one cared whether I did it or not. Was I just impulsive? Crazy? Punishing myself?

Then I realized it was actually much more simple than that: I love running.

I love the mental headspace I get into once I pass the first few miles. It’s hard to explain, but when I run I daydream in motion. I always wear headphones and play music, and each song creates a different scene in my head. So I can jog for one or two hours and feel as though I’ve seen a hundred different movies. And once I stop, I always feel calm and clear and locked-in.

“The thoughts that occur to me while I’m running are like clouds in the sky. Clouds of all different sizes. They come and they go, while the sky remains the same sky always. The clouds are mere guests in the sky that pass away and vanish, leaving behind the sky.” - Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running

The last time I ran a half-marathon was ten years ago in San Francisco in 2016. The Golden Gate Half-Marathon started in the city, went over the bridge, looped around through Sausalito, went back over the bridge, and ended at the city again. The experience was one of my favorite running memories because I felt that I got to know San Francisco in an entirely different way.

Part of me has always wanted to do some version of that in Los Angeles, the city I’ve lived in and called home for the past 10+ years. Running from Dodger Stadium to Century City felt like it could be a new challenge, and one I wanted to achieve not for anyone but myself. I wanted to see the car-driven city of LA in a new way, on foot.

Eventually I stopped criticizing myself for falling back in Miami and realized that the new shoes I bought were too wide and clunky. As soon as I started wearing another pair I stopped tripping during my runs. I built back up mile after mile. My knee healed up. Just this morning I ran six miles at an even pace and felt good.

I want to adopt the mindset I have with running to my writing as well. For a while I had been setting ambitious goals (Finish the novel! Write a play! Make a narrative video game! Drop an EP of original songs! Publish a weekly Substack!) but would become overwhelmed by them and not make as much progress, then fall into a vicious cycle of self-criticism that would further hinder any progress that would then prompt more self-criticism. Perfectionism and ambition are a toxic friendship. Now I want to break those goals down into bite-sized pieces and focus on making steady, consistent progress.

I think it’s likely I’ll run a marathon one day, and finish my novel.

For the time being I’ll take things one step at a time and enjoy the daydreaming.

This is my favorite season in this seemingly seasonless city. Regular walks around the streets transform into something almost whimsical. At times I might play a song from a Studio Ghibli movie on my headphones and daydream.

At the end of the day, the jacaranda’s beauty lies in their transience. Tomorrow is the first of July, and soon the only thing left of them will be the faint lavender stains on the ground.

I don’t know why for my first Substack post I felt the impulse to write about these jacaranda trees. Maybe it’s because I want to use this as a space where I can practice my writing while documenting some of the little moments that I come across.

There are so many of these… and sometimes I need to remind myself that in a world that constantly pushes us to achieve (and excel and pursue and optimize), the simple act of paying attention and giving love to ourselves and the people around us — to soak in the beauty that lies in the very transience of our own lives — is in itself a deeply political action.

“The value of a real education has almost nothing to do with knowledge, and everything to do with simple awareness; awareness of what is so real and essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us, all the time…”

- David Foster Wallace

I was thinking about the above David Foster Wallace speech when, about eight months ago, I stepped away from most social media platforms. The reason I did this is because I felt a gnawing sense that I could no longer allow myself to get distracted or caught up in online comparisons.

I wanted to regain control over my attention rather than allow tech companies to commodify it for the benefit of advertisers. More than that, I wanted to be present and conscious — to live my life without posting about it, in order to re-evaluate my relationship with social media and be more intentional if I were to ever return.

This is why Substack caught my eye as a space where I could introduce myself as the writer I am, both to loved ones and strangers. For a long time, the fear of being judged is what kept me from sharing anything. I didn’t want to be seen as awkward or cringe. I wanted to airbrush everything I posted, so that none of the cracks ever showed.

Only now am I beginning to realize that these imperfections, these specific little details, are all part of the process that I enjoy about writing and making art. The process of creation comes with messiness, even destruction. For every great work there are scraps and edits and rewrites. I want to document this iterative process as candidly as I can here. Because at the end of the day, I love writing. I love the day-in, day-out aspects of it. I love connecting with others through the written word. I love keeping the purple flowers alive a little longer, even if only in prose.

So if you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading. I hope to write more soon.

-Cata

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