Guest Post By Wanjiru Maina
1. Prepare. Or don’t.
I woke up on Saturday 11th and went for a run. 10 kms. Just like that. No prior practice, no warm up. I got there, said hi to a few familiar faces, got into my branded T-shirt and took off! I was out of breath by the 12th minute. My chest was not tight though, as is sometimes the case, whenever I ambush it with a sprint or a run. (Hihihi) Yea, I sneak up on it some times… And it curls up tight in what feels like a foetal position, fighting for its survival, not caring about mine! Smh! But before I digress, carried away by angina, the condition’s official name, let me share the lesson:
Sometimes, prior planning is just not workable. Either by design or by the design of laziness. That notwithstanding, what needs to get done needs to get done. Get in there with both feet. Roll up your sleeves and get doing. You will pant, you will get stuck, you will want to quit, but you will have started, and that is the most important step. To begin.
Oh, and it will be hard, prepared or not. ( I am all for planning, don’t get me wrong, but “adulting” has taught me that planning is not always feasible, and sometimes, even the most well done plans fall apart.)
2. Never run alone
I went with a friend. And when my friend and I were spent, another friend, an older, stronger and more experienced friend came along. He saw us walking. Called us by name, held each of our hands and refused to let go. And we ran, longer and harder than we had intended to. He refused to leave us behind, until we finished. We became a team. Take note of the adjectives used to describe our friend. That friend’s attributes and role is lesson two. Yes you are now an adult. But even then, you cannot do this by yourself. You need a team. You need someone whose strength, wisdom and experience surpasses your own.
3. Keep moving
Adulting feels like a full time job. Like one long assignment, so does a run. You start, you run, you walk when your feet can no longer keep the momentum of a run. You finish. You get a bottle of water and lucozade. No, they do not say a closing prayer. They play music. You dance and stretch. Program rolls on. Unveiling, recognition, speeches. Like as if you have not just ran 10 kms! And such is the adult life. You complete one major task or assignment. You exhale. You want to take a break. To be left alone. But no, there is no end to the long list of things that require your attention. I say this with some level of dread, seeing as I have not a family, yet. Am sure those who do have a deeper comprehension of this one. I keep wondering how they do it.
4. The shoe you choose
I wore a nice pair of sneakers, brand new. They felt good, they looked good. They just were not good. My toes hurt for three straight days. So is this adult life. Some things will look good. Some job opportunities, some relationships, some electronics, or investments. But they are not. And they will pinch, and your toes will ache. You will become the proverbial wearer, the one who knows where the shoe pinches. But you will learn which shoes to stay away from. Smile, your toes will heal too! Mine did. Just the distant ache of a memory. And that too shall fade. Another thing with adult life. Memories of the aches fade. Lessons linger. And life moves on.
It does, doesn’t it? That, ladies and gentlemen, was Wanjiru Maina, a serious reader and clearly, secret writer who should not be secret no more. She is also a recovering accountant. We called her JayC, back in high school. 🙂 Do you know what she wrote me when she sent this?
“I wrote something
Not sure it’s any good
But if you like it, it could or reduce the silence on Thoughts & Stuff 🙈”
Talk of understatements! Please keep writing, JayC! Thanks for sending this. You are all welcome, as the little Shikus hold a roundtable conference to decide when and how they will start writing again.