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A friend of mine was explaining to me recently that he believes that the artist is the art. He says that before an artist picks up a brush or a pianist strikes a chord or a writer turns a phrase that the art already exists. That the creativity and the art and all the possibility that the art might mean reside within the artist. The actual making of the art is simply the action taken to actualize what already exists. It’s similar to the notion that the final form of a sculpture already exists within the stone. But it’s the job of the sculptor to realize it and start chipping. I find that that’s true with athletics. In a way, I don’t wake up each morning as a runner. However, once I decide to run and put my shoes on, the run is already complete except that I haven’t taken a step. It’s more than simple visualization. It’s visualization and it’s the urge the artist or runner makes to demonstrate herself powerfully. She finds this through ‘flow’, the energy that is beautiful and timeless and makes her feel good. She knows when she’s in flow because time exists without measurement and she feels more deeply like herself than at any other time of that day. It’s the greatest gift she can find for herself and the greatest one she can offer up to the universe. She doesn’t paint and find flow, flow finds her and she paints. So why at times especially after a period of lull, do I resist running? I know that it feels good, that it allows me to demonstrate myself, that it engages me in life as no other activity can. Recently, I traveled internally for two months to a country where it is very difficult for a woman to exercise. Having had a routine beforehand of daily workouts, this was a big change, actually loss. When I returned home, I found it difficult to make the wheels of that inertia to turn. And I was a puddle of body cells rather than the fitness machine I once had been. I began just by putting on my running shoes. Once they were on, brain and muscle memory seemed to take over. Once I readied myself, I became the athlete, the artist. I was slow and easily tired, but I flowed and it felt good. I still resist somewhat. I still think of running or lifting as a chore. But less so now than before. What does this say? I think it says that once the artist picks up her brush, the decision to demonstrate herself is made. It’s trusting the process of flow and in oneself to allow what happens next that now makes the art. Where are my shoes? Let it begin.