Confessions of a Speedreader
I am a proud speedreader. Seriously. If I need to provide a fun fact about myself, I love to talk about how I read at a pace of 750 words per minute (“wpm” if you want to spend 0.4 less seconds reading this article). No, I don’t just move my eyes across the page. Yes, I remember what I read. Sure, I’ll demonstrate. What’s more, the average North American adult reads at a speed of 250 wpm, a third of my PB. Now, this article isn’t meant to help you become a speedreader. Frankly, I wouldn’t know where to start. I’ve always been a fast reader and my life peaked when I was determined to be reading at a high school level (and pace) in only the 4th grade. In fact, reading isn’t the only thing I do quickly. For four of my formative years, I competed in track and field, and then when that took too much of a toll on my joints, I switched to rowing. For the better half of a decade, I understood that the only way to win was to be the fastest. Even after I quit rowing, I conflated success with a lack of time spent. A teacher once told me that you have to first master a skill, then learn how to do it quickly. But for me, speed is mastery.
“Life is short, and I’m actively trying to make it shorter.”
Now, I know what you’re thinking, spending less time on required readings is nice, and my shiny ribbons do add a pop of colour to my childhood bedroom. But while I’m racing against the clock, the clock isn’t stopping. Life is short, and I’m actively trying to make it shorter. Ironically, I had to take a moment to pause in order to attempt to find a root cause for my behaviour. I’m no professional, but I think it comes down to fear. One of my greatest sorrows is for all the books that I will never read. Another is for all of the places I will never visit. I mourn the work that I will never do. I speed read to try and make a dent in my lifetime unread pile. I plan trips to the minute so I can extract the most out of our planet. I work tirelessly to try and maximise my contributions to this world. I fear that if I don’t rush, I won’t get to read, see, and do everything that I want to. For time-obsessed, rushed people like myself, the idea of stopping or even just slowing down can be terrifying. Time-obsessed, rushed people like myself rush through things because we’re scared we won’t have time for everything. But, time-obsessed, rushed people like myself run the risk of missing out. I have to decide what scares me more, accepting I’ll never complete it all, or waking up one day and realising that my efforts weren’t enough.
“I have to decide what scares me more, accepting I’ll never complete it all, or waking up one day and realising that my efforts weren’t enough. ”
How do I reconcile between two horrific options? Do I learn to read slower, counting out beats after each word? Do I invest in ankle weights, an attempt to justify a leisurely pace? Perhaps the answer isn’t in what I do, but in what I think. My habits are caused by the harrowing burden that life is short. But what if life isn’t short? After all, it’s the longest thing I’ll ever experience. If life is long, then I have time to read this book in more than one sitting. If life is long, then I can take the time to travel. If life is long, I don’t have to solve the world’s problems today. If life is long, I can trust that I’ll do everything that I need to. Anyways, I’m going to go listen to “Vienna" by Billy Joel.
HEADER BY: AMELIA TRAN
