I'm eating lunch today when I get a taste of my own medicine.
This cafe is always packed right about now, so I'm psyched to have landed an open table by the window. My laptop's open in front of me and I'm clicking through my inbox. First, I see the name of the sender and I'm excited because it means new writing from someone whose words I love to read. Next, my eyes dart to the subject line, and as much as I don't want it to, my interest dwindles.
I go back and forth between opening it now or waiting until later, and later wins. I move on. There's plenty on my to-do list for the day and I'm trying to squeeze in a run this afternoon before it rains. Running in the rain is a sadistic sort of pleasantry, but only on occasion. Lately, I seem to be doing it a bit much for my liking.
When I'm done eating, I glance at my watch and mentally prepare to pack up and head out. For some reason, I click the email I'd saved for later.
Just a peek.
Only a teaser.
My eyes danced along the first sentence before sashaying their way to the second. And then the third. And the fourth, fifth, and sixth. I'm smiling and it's only getting bigger the more I read. It's really good!
I've been reading Brendan Leonard's writing for a decade now in various forms. His book 60 Meters To Anywhere played a pretty major role in my decision to get sober. The outdoor-focused, travel-journal style of his work has kept me an avid reader of his other stuff, too. Today, though, something was so refreshingly different about the words in front of me that I couldn't place it at first.
Over the years, his style has shifted with the evolution of his personal life. He got married and became a dad, but still runs ultramrathons. And he writes about all of it in a very human way that I thoroughly enjoy. So why was this piece so different? What made me completely lose track of time and drop all prior urgency related to my to-do list?
It felt like him.
That was it—the story, the details, the thoughts were all personal touches. And yet, I was picturing my own life and memories while I read about his. In fact, when I was done reading, I just sat there staring into space for a bit so I could hang out with the memories I'd stumbled across a bit more.
And, to think... I almost hadn't clicked because of the title. Turns out, it didn't match the gravitas of the piece even a little bit (at least, in my opinion). But that's the whole ballgame, isn't it? I had to shake my head at that. As a writer, I felt a pang of exasperation—for Brendan, for the people who might not read his masterpiece. And for myself; for facing the very same gamble every day when I publish this column. Or an essay or podcast episode.
I felt like shouting "YOU ALMOST DIDN'T GET ME" into the ether.
ME! And I read all your stuff!
But you did, Brendan.
And I'm so glad.
What's something you love that you feel is severely underrated? Who can you share it with?
onward.
For more on this daily column and The MAP Year Project, read the backstory here. And if you know someone who'd appreciate this, pass it along.