One of the reasons I love to run is that it provides great thinking time. It is one of those rare moments when I do not have to multitask, my mind no longer struggling with how to do five things at once. Instead, I’m left alone with just myself and my thoughts. Inevitably, the ideas of the magazine swirl around in my head as my feet pound the pavement. So bear with me through another running analogy.
One of the things I have not always loved about running is the hills. When I first started, I would avoid them at all costs and plan my routes where I knew the roads were flat. Running was taxing enough and any sort of incline made me want to stop, lie down, and never get back up again.
A cousin once told me she thrived on the hills, and I thought she was absolutely crazy. Over a year later, I consider her less of a loon. Here is why.
Once I had been running long enough that three flat miles no longer made me want to die, hills became a needed challenge to help me build additional strength and endurance. In this issue, Charles Workman and Michèle Crider talk about the “hills” in their singing careers—those challenges that have pushed them further. For Crider it was moving to Europe and feeling overwhelmed at the language barrier and cultural differences. For Workman it was facing increased competition because of the many talented singers coming out of Eastern Europe. Both expressed how surpassing these obstacles have made them better singers and stronger individuals.
I have also come to appreciate that hills on a running route provide short term goals and periodic points of progress and achievement during a long run. Finding those small moments of triumph and progress is critical to push through the ups and downs of life’s marathon. Workman, featured in this month’s cover story, shares some of his recent career peaks, most significantly his technical discoveries that have made his singing truly beautiful.
Hills require a runner to be flexible about their pace, to give and take. You have to bear down and slow up a bit on the incline, and then you can let loose a little and relax on the decline. A singing career also requires this kind of flexibility. Olivia Giovetti shares stories of singers forced to make the most of unexpected circumstances when things have gone awry onstage. Three singers, now “retired”—at least from full-time, professional singing—share how their willingness to be flexible in their career path has led them to find joy and fulfillment in their lives after the stage.
Perhaps the best part about hills is the knowledge that if you are going up, you will eventually get to come down. The steep incline usually means the downhill stretch is just around the corner. In Lisa Houston’s column this month, she shares three examples from opera about learning to leave the past behind and find freedom in the future. Sometimes the key is holding on long enough, through the incline, to better enjoy the sweet, liberating downhill slope on the other side.
Wherever you currently find yourself—on the uphill climb, the downhill slope, or somewhere in between—I hope you find enjoyment and inspiration in this issue of Classical Singer.
