July 4th 1997, Mike and I stand on Penn’s Landing in Phili with a few thousand other people waiting for the fireworks show. The crowd is enthusiastic, entertaining and oozing pride in their city—the birthplace of independence. It was dark, it was loud, Mike and I had secured a great spot on a banister squished in between a large man who smelled of cheesesteaks (extra onion) and a young, thin, unisex person dressed in a black unitard with fluorescent green tape running down its sides. We laughed, we joked and we reveled in our freedom. Freedom of thought. Freedom of speech. Freedom to be the unique and interesting individuals we all were. Fast forward to 10:00 pm. It had been dark for quite a while at this point and the crowd was getting restless. No fireworks. We were all puzzled, the thousands of us; until word somehow spread that the fireworks were at the art museum across the city. Just why on Earth did we all end up on the wrong end of town? I think it is simply that a few thousand of us had the same idea; we just thought it should be at Penn’s Landing. It just made sense that it would be. Meanwhile across town there was probably another twenty something girl watching beautiful fireworks with her handsome boyfriend, while compressed in between a fat, smelly guy and a skinny, strangely-clad Blue Man Group reject.
They say we humans, are at the top of the evolutionary chain. What an intelligent and original bunch we are. But moments such as what we will now refer to (in a stage whisper) as the Penn‘s Landing Incident make me wonder. We were like a bunch of lemmings out there--waiting for a show that was never scheduled to happen in the first place. As one of my favorite writers, David Sedaris, would say “All of us take pride and pleasure in the fact that we are unique, but I'm afraid that when all is said and done the police are right: it all comes down to fingerprints." Though the optimist in me finds this a little dark, the realist in me thinks it’s about right.
Just look at your friends’ posts on facebook: the best ones are often great movie or song quotes, funny jokes that someone googled, or one of those fast statuses that give you suggestions you can post. Sure occasionally you’ll have the friend who will post that he was grazed by a bus (true story), or the post about your aunt who thought she threw her cigarette out the window, but really threw it into the hood of her coat (true again), but those are diamonds in the rough.
Take comfort my friends; this lack of originality isn’t always a bad thing. After weeks of throwing around possible team names for our Running Group I realized we could just search “Cool Team Names” on the internet. When I plugged that into google I came up with several links, cool team names, team names that rock, cool team names that rock and so on. A few weeks ago I wanted to bake Max a Super Mario Bros. cake for his birthday. I had some ideas, but couldn’t quite get them rolling, so I searched the internet and within seconds there was the dream cake. In fact there were dozens of Super Mario cakes. Sure these are superficial reasons to be happy that we are unoriginal, but there are some serious ones, too. As a mom and a teacher I am glad that there are books, sites, support groups and so on that promise humans this very thing. You aren’t alone, whatever your worries, someone out there has had them, too. So yes, sometimes being unoriginal is a good thing.
Still, I have spent 90% of my day trying to come up with a unique and entertaining blog and I finally had to come to terms with the fact that there might not be such a thing. Chances are some of you will find this entertaining, others lackluster, but one thing is a guarantee-there must be someone out there who has blogged about this very same thing. In these moments the only thing that makes me feels better is that you have chosen to read my blog instead of hers.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
The Worrier Dash
This summer we stopped at the sand dunes in Florence, Oregon on our way back from the Redwoods. The dunes are absolutely one of the coolest and most bizarre things this side of the Mississippi. (This side meaning my side, which to many of you is not this side, but that side; but for a few of you it really is this side). Anyway, the dunes are a result of millions of years of rain erosion and wind. There are miles and miles of dunes in Oregon, yet we had a hard time finding them. We were searching for them and nearly gave up when we stumbled upon the ultimate dunes. The sandy hills we found were actually behind a Fred Meyer grocery store. Sure that’s odd, but also really convenient, especially when you want to buy a coke or use the restroom to flush your sand encrusted eyes with cold water. Anyhow, there were people on sleds, snowboards and there were people like us who were just on foot. Mike and the kids loved running and then jumping off of the edge of the dunes seeing how far down the hill they could land. Try as I might I would get a running start and then falter at the edge, doing a move that I thought was a jump, but apparently it was more of a plop. The family would razz me and I would attempt it again, getting to the last step and then…plop. I just couldn’t do it! It seems that my attempts were really entertaining for certain members of my family, but for me, well, not so much. I was so frustrated with myself, but try as I might it was the same thing again and again. Recently we were reminiscing about the trip. Max accused me of being a chicken, but Maddee came to my defense saying, “It’s not really that she’s afraid, she’s just very protective of her body.” Hmm that’s a way to spin it, I guess.
Well spin or no spin they are both right, I am protective of my body, but that’s because I am scared of getting hurt. And being fearful is no fun. I don’t really have enough faith in my body, or in the laws of nature, for that matter. Sure, I understand that what goes up must come down, but once I’m down how do I get back up again? I worry about getting hurt and I worry about being embarrassed. Now as a mom, I also worry about my children developing the same fearful attitudes about trying something that is new and a bit scary.
It’s not just fear that holds me back; it’s also a sheer lack of coordination. The main reason I run for exercise is that running requires no other equipment. I can’t catch a ball, swing a bat or handle a racket. I am an absolute horror show on wheels, blades, and skis. My goodness I am the girl who fell off a treadmill, not once, but twice. I even fell off the stationary bike in spinning class. Coordination is not my middle name.
And so now knowing what you know, I am going to confess that I did something totally crazy last Friday. Yep. I signed up for this summer’s Warrior Dash. Not only did I sign up for the Warrior Dash, but I lobbied several friends to join me. What’s the Warrior Dash, you ask? Well, it’s just a little three and a half mile obstacle course that has you jumping over fire, climbing cargo nets, hopping over walls, running over scrap metal cars, trudging through muddy waters, crawling under barbed wire fences, and so on. What on Earth would possess a girl who is afraid to take two stairs at a time, to sign up for something like that? Well, I have no idea. In fact if I had an extra $200 I’d probably pull up a couch and pay a professional to analyze that very thing. Unfortunately I spent my last $200 on a charming little helmet to wear when crossing the street during rush hour. After all, you can’t be too careful.
When push comes to shove, (which I hope it doesn’t because once again someone could get hurt) I can come up with some good reasons for doing the Warrior Dash. Strangely only a handful of my reasons are directly related to the cool Viking hat and the free beer one receives upon completing the Dash. Up until recently I didn’t give myself much credit for being physically strong. My first indication that I might not be as wimpy as I thought was childbirth. I had no idea I could do that-twice-and do it without meds! Even though I was pretty impressed with myself, I thought it might possibly be some sort of fluke. Then of course training for and completing my first 5k, then 10K, then Half Marathon and then Full Marathon put me in tune with how physically and mentally strong I could be. Showing that once again I can be physically strong seems like a good reason to do the Dash. And being mentally tough--doing a bunch of things that are totally scary--always sounds fantastic to me. That is until, it’s time to do them, but I’ll worry about that when I am hanging head first from a cargo net muddy, bloody and full of tears.
More reasons? Well, there is of course, the fact that I am in a bit of a healthy eating/exercise slump and preparing for the Warrior Dash seems like a good way to mix things up and get motivated. And I won’t lie; I’ve always liked getting a little muddy. So those are the reasons I can think of right now. I am sure there are other reasons, too, but instead of worrying about why I want to do it, I think I better worry about how I am going to do it or better yet, maybe I should just choose not to worry at all. Hmmmm.
Well spin or no spin they are both right, I am protective of my body, but that’s because I am scared of getting hurt. And being fearful is no fun. I don’t really have enough faith in my body, or in the laws of nature, for that matter. Sure, I understand that what goes up must come down, but once I’m down how do I get back up again? I worry about getting hurt and I worry about being embarrassed. Now as a mom, I also worry about my children developing the same fearful attitudes about trying something that is new and a bit scary.
It’s not just fear that holds me back; it’s also a sheer lack of coordination. The main reason I run for exercise is that running requires no other equipment. I can’t catch a ball, swing a bat or handle a racket. I am an absolute horror show on wheels, blades, and skis. My goodness I am the girl who fell off a treadmill, not once, but twice. I even fell off the stationary bike in spinning class. Coordination is not my middle name.
And so now knowing what you know, I am going to confess that I did something totally crazy last Friday. Yep. I signed up for this summer’s Warrior Dash. Not only did I sign up for the Warrior Dash, but I lobbied several friends to join me. What’s the Warrior Dash, you ask? Well, it’s just a little three and a half mile obstacle course that has you jumping over fire, climbing cargo nets, hopping over walls, running over scrap metal cars, trudging through muddy waters, crawling under barbed wire fences, and so on. What on Earth would possess a girl who is afraid to take two stairs at a time, to sign up for something like that? Well, I have no idea. In fact if I had an extra $200 I’d probably pull up a couch and pay a professional to analyze that very thing. Unfortunately I spent my last $200 on a charming little helmet to wear when crossing the street during rush hour. After all, you can’t be too careful.
When push comes to shove, (which I hope it doesn’t because once again someone could get hurt) I can come up with some good reasons for doing the Warrior Dash. Strangely only a handful of my reasons are directly related to the cool Viking hat and the free beer one receives upon completing the Dash. Up until recently I didn’t give myself much credit for being physically strong. My first indication that I might not be as wimpy as I thought was childbirth. I had no idea I could do that-twice-and do it without meds! Even though I was pretty impressed with myself, I thought it might possibly be some sort of fluke. Then of course training for and completing my first 5k, then 10K, then Half Marathon and then Full Marathon put me in tune with how physically and mentally strong I could be. Showing that once again I can be physically strong seems like a good reason to do the Dash. And being mentally tough--doing a bunch of things that are totally scary--always sounds fantastic to me. That is until, it’s time to do them, but I’ll worry about that when I am hanging head first from a cargo net muddy, bloody and full of tears.
More reasons? Well, there is of course, the fact that I am in a bit of a healthy eating/exercise slump and preparing for the Warrior Dash seems like a good way to mix things up and get motivated. And I won’t lie; I’ve always liked getting a little muddy. So those are the reasons I can think of right now. I am sure there are other reasons, too, but instead of worrying about why I want to do it, I think I better worry about how I am going to do it or better yet, maybe I should just choose not to worry at all. Hmmmm.
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