“Commitment is an act, not a word.”
Jean-Paul Sartre
It was around midnight—that dangerous hour when your brain whispers, You know what would fix everything? A bold new identity.
There I was, scrolling through Facebook, half-asleep, probably eating something that had the word “family-size” on the bag. And out of nowhere—no dare, no inspiration, no reason at all—I announced to the world that I was going to run a half-marathon.
“I’m doing it!” I typed. “Thirteen point one miles of glory.”
I hit post, closed my laptop, and felt like a man reborn.
Within minutes, the likes started rolling in. Friends cheered me on. Coworkers I hadn’t spoken to in years commented with ALL-CAPS enthusiasm. Even my old college roommate—who once saw me get winded carrying a pizza box up the stairs—wrote, “Proud of you!”
And for those few glorious minutes, I believed them.
I saw myself gliding through city streets at sunrise, waving to onlookers, my bib number flapping heroically in the breeze. I was that guy now. A runner. A disciplined, motivated, better version of me.
Then morning came.
And as I shuffled into the kitchen, barefoot, clutching my coffee, I realized something important: I don’t run. I never have. I’ve avoided running my entire life with the same strategic precision I use to avoid small talk and kale.
The only running I’ve ever enjoyed involves boarding gates or sales at Target.
But there it was—my post. Public. Permanent. A glowing monument to late-night confidence and poor judgment.
I didn’t delete it. I just let it sit there—a digital headstone marking the death of my brief athletic career. People kept commenting for weeks: “You got this!” “So proud of you!” “What’s your training plan??”
And I’d reply with something vague like, “Just taking it one step at a time.” Which, technically, was true. Mostly steps between the couch and the fridge.
The truth is, I never signed up for a race. Never bought shoes. Never even Googled “what is a half-marathon.” I just quietly moved on with my life—though every now and then, Facebook Memories likes to remind me that on this day in 2012, I was a man of vision.
Here’s what I’ve learned: commitment isn’t about making a declaration. It’s about doing something so boring, so consistent, so un-postworthy that you might never get a single like for it.
And honestly, maybe that’s for the best. Because the world doesn’t need more 1 a.m. promises. It needs more Tuesday-afternoon follow-through.
So no, I never ran that half-marathon. But I did walk briskly to get the mail today—and in my heart, that feels like progress.
