Way back in 1979 when I was trying to finish a major college paper, I put up a little sign over my desk: "Any job worth doing is worth doing poorly."
I had come to the realization, you see, that some weird idealism was keeping me at the task of constantly tweaking the product, to such an extent that the final product was never going to be produced.
I grew up with the "do it right" mentality. My mom would scrub the kitchen floor on hands and knees because, "Otherwise it just doesn't get clean." Dad would see me washing the car and say, "While you're at it, why don't you just pull it into the shade and give it a coat of wax?"
My kitchen floor is lucky if I spot-clean the occasional spill, or give it a hasty sweep. My current car (and most others back through my vehicle ownership history) have been uncontaminated by car wax.
But what I'm really talking about is running.
Part of my mind still defaults to "do it right" so much that it risks doing nothing.
The running schedule called for 7 miles today. I just wasn't up to that. I almost just turned off the alarm and said, "No run today." Instead, I got up dark and early and ended up doing 3.7 miles. Me and the birds and the deer and the cottontails in the dawn's early light.
"Only" three point seven miles.
Calling it good. After all, any job worth doing...
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