Finishing something is a drug. Writers love to have written. Runners love to have run.
The act of placing that final period at the end of a novel or enduring the race until the finish line both speak to the euphoria of completing a goal. It’s a situation with Machiavellian implications. Do I love the day in and day out work of a big task? Yes. But not as much as I like looking at the glossy, finished product with my name on the cover. People always say, “It’s not about the destination, it’s the journey.” I disagree. The journey is only able to be understood through the lense that the end point affords. I’m not saying the journey isn’t worthwhile, but the destination is just as important.