The following thoughts have very little to do with playing the viola or being a violist, but is reflecting something I have been thinking about over the past week.
Golf and soccer had similar struggles. With golf, my swinging technique was a bit clumsy, and all of the coaches that I worked with were right handed. I tried to join the soccer world a little late in the game, in fifth grade, I joined a fun team, and can still count a few of those teammates as friends years later, but it wasn't my thing. In the grand scheme of things, I quickly realized that I was far more passionate about all things musical, and that won out.
Gym class was probably the roughest. Being short, and from about 4th or 5th grade on, a little on the husky side, and my lack of athletic talent or drive was often obvious. I was often one of the last people called onto any team, and really didn't quite get it. I remember struggling with several aspects of the New York State physical fitness test, the only exams I ever consistently failed throughout my schooling career, because I couldn't run a mile, and I could do a pull up. Year after year, I was cramping out after one or two laps around the track.
Mobility was important to me though. Growing up on suburban Long Island, I was in biking distance to the beach. I wasn't allowed to cross the major highway the bisected my community, but if I crossed at the beach where there was a lot less traffic, that soon expanded my biking turf!
During my senior year of High School, my family moved to a new neighborhood, far from many of my friends, but in an area more conducive to running, fewer cars, calmer traffic, more wooded areas. I was also reaching my angst teenaged years, tweaking out about college applications, and audition stresses. Running, slow though I probably was, became a new outlet for me. I took this new form of exercise with me to college at Boston University, frequently doing a lap around BU's campus, or across the Charles River, into parts of Cambridge or Brookline. This became a way for me to explore the beauty of the area. It was a way for me to get exercise without having to compete with anyone, or adhere to standards imposed by others.
Fast forward several years. In 2010, when my sister passed away, I found myself overwhelmed with devastating grief, anxieties, and confusion over how to go forward with my life. Practicing was painful and difficult, and low on my priority list. Running became incredibly important as a way to release, escape from my world, and focus about one foot moving in front of the other- nothing else mattered, except for oncoming traffic, or a really cool patch of raspberries or apples tree.
My family and friends from our hometown helped to set up an annual 5K Run and Walk in honor of my sister, Kara, in a beautiful place called South Haven Park. Soon I had a goal, 5 kilometers, 3.1 miles, to get through. At first I thought this would be impossible, but after going through my first race at the age of 27, I realized that it was an attainable goal.
Running quickly became part of my routine, it didn't really matter where I was at any given point in time, I would run! San Diego, Los Angeles, Washington DC, Knoxville, TN, Pittsfield, MA, London, Berlin, Leipzig, the Czech Republic- running would be modus operandus while traveling. I soon found that 5 kilometers felt short, why not go for 5 miles? Why not go for 6? Or 8? I found myself entering a 10K run (6.2 miles), and this summer at the ripe young age of 31, taking part in the San Francisco Half Marathon. (The preparation for that over the past month was grueling, and for the record, it makes audition excerpt preparation feel like a cakewalk by comparison!)
My inner ten year old never would have thought such great distances, or running past the Lincoln Memorial in Washington DC, in Hyde Park in London, or on the Golden Gate Bridge were even possibilities. Who knows, perhaps a year or two from now I might be capable of running a full marathon!
As we continue to progress through our lives, it is important to keep striving to be the best selves that we can be. As long as we are doing our personal best, that is what really matters. This goes for us as musicians, as educators, and as members of our society. The finish line is always elusive, and we have to be able to adapt, especially as our goals become more attainable. Just as I am not ready to stop with finishing a half marathon, I am not ready to say that I have become the best violist that I can be, there is still so much more to learn and improve upon! We also have to be able to regroup if tragedy strikes, if we become injured, or reach failure or defeat. Such things may set us back for a few weeks, months, or even years, but it is important to try to overcome such obstacles, and keep moving forward.
My race time at the San Francisco Half Marathon- two hours, twenty seven minutes and change, will not make it into the book of records, and it was far from extraordinary. But it was an incredible test of endurance, pushing me farther and faster than I ever moved before, and witnessing an incredible landscape that will be forever etched in my brain. It also is helping me to raise my bar in terms of the practicing I need to do, and the writing that needs to take place in the coming days, weeks, and months.
