Wow guys, thanks so much for all of your amazing feedback last week.
I always hesitate before putting personal things on the interwebs, but it really makes me feel good to know that some of you out there might relate.
I haven’t gotten the chance to write everyone back yet, but please know that your comments and emails mean more to me than I can ever express!
Now it’s Labor Day and I’m sure most of you are enjoying your day with your family and friends, eating things grilled on a grill, and sunbathing as God intended. I had to work this morning, and am now forcing myself to spend a little time reflecting over my weekend as part of my goal to spend a little time every day writing… no matter how mundane it might be.
As difficult as it was for me to get my ass in gear this morning, I’m thankful that I at least had a few days of absolute joy this weekend. My boyfriend’s sister and brother-in-law came in town, and we took the opportunity to eat burgers and spend a day out at Krause Springs.
In the beginning of the summer, we tried to make our way to every watering hole we could get our legs in. Somewhere around the beginning of July, it got too hot to even get anywhere other than a cold shower. Since our skin has returned to it’s natural state of see-through, we decided it was time to embrace the sun again before the summer officially comes to an end.
I was really glad we went though. It wasn’t too crowded, and with the exception of seeing a giant snake swim between two embraced couples, it was the perfect way to spend Labor Day weekend. More importantly, I finally let my inner-child out and got up the nerve to join the youngins on the rope swing.
I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard. I also can’t remember the last time I had such a horrid bruise between my legs. Still, it was worth every last belly flop.
Which got me thinking, when did I lose that part of my soul? When did I become such
a pussy an adult that rope-swings and tree-climbing became things that I inherently fear?
As a child, I was a tom-boy. Give me a pile of leaves and I would create some sort of obstacle course that would end with me catapulting into them. I used to love cliff-diving and riding a scooter fast down a hill. Pogo-stick off of a high-dive? No problem! There was no bee-hive that I wouldn’t throw rocks at. (Also, I was kind of an idiot.)
The last few years, it seems that I’ve become the type of person who is cautious to a fault. I can barely drive on a high-rise without going into a hand-shaking state of fear. I go catatonic at the thought of even riding on the back of my sister’s motorized scooter.
Last spring, my boyfriend and I decided to give bike-riding a try in an effort to change-up our fitness routine. At first, I could barely ride down the block without nearly wrecking into large stationary dumpsters. They say bike-riding is supposed to be something you never forget. “They” are wrong about a lot of things, and this seemed to one of them.
After a few miles of walking my bike down hills and slowly maneuvering around parked vehicles, I got the hang of it again. Within 30 minutes, I flying along the sidewalk and giggling like a ten-year old.
I felt the same way a few weeks ago when I found myself at a skating rink for my boss’s birthday party. I arrived with plans to say hi, and then make a quick exit. I definitely never intended to risk busting out my two front teeth on a pair of roller skates. Since I don’t like feeling left out, I eventually found myself holding on to the wall and shakily making my way around the rink. By the end of the night, I had the confidence (but not the skills) of Michelle Kwan, and had to be pulled off the rink when it was time to leave.
I’m starting to think that my child-like sense of fun is not lost at all, but just went into an extended period of hibernation. Every time I get the balls to challenge my fears, I end up having the time of my life.
Henceforth, I’m bound and determined to remember this the next time I want to sit on the side-lines out of fear. Hear that boyfriend? Add this to the list of things you have to remind me, and I’ll also try to remember it myself.
I doubt that I’ll ever be the type of person who will drive across the country on a motorcycle, but maybe, just maybe, I can add skydiving, or at least skydancing back onto my bucket list.