When you have children, you can have exactly one hobby. Anything else is an exercise in futility, self-deception, and ineffectiveness. Cooking healthy food is a hobby. Exercising is a hobby. Maintaining a website is a hobby. Writing a blog is a hobby. Bringing work home is a hobby.
That is a minor paragraph in an otherwise downer post about a tech start-up shutting down, but it is entirely true and poignant to my life. Over the last two years, running has (injury dependent) been the singular hobby to which I have devoted any significant expanse of time. I have tried to engage seriously in other hobbies such as writing a blog, engaging in home repair, creating new websites, maintaining social bonds, even working on open-source projects. However, I keep coming back to running. I am not even sure why. I really do not like running; I am constantly injured because of running; I am spending far more money than I should on running; generally, I am not entirely sure that I am happier for it all.
It has become a minor obsession, and I do not know why.
Actually, I do know why: I have a goal. It is an arbitrary, expensive, long-term goal. For some reason, I have it in my head that running all six of the World Marathon Majors is a Good Idea. Berlin, Boston, London, New York, and Tokyo are all cities that would be fun to visit. Since I am terribly stubborn, and worse so when I have a Good Idea, then I will find myself continuing with this arduous hobby. The next two goals along the path are to run the Chicago Marathon, and to finish a marathon with a Boston Qualifier. From there, I will have to save enough money to make two different family trips to Europe and a trip to Japan. These are not cheap endeavors.
Until then, all of the other hobbies are just going to have to wait.