just a little......
As I noted in my entry from December 30, 2011; these endeavors we undertake at our level of the sport are little things. I seriously hope my legacy won’t be my inconsequential sporting accomplishments. If that’s all I have to show for when I’m dead, my life will have been a serious waste of energy. In actuality, it’s all relative. What seems like a simple matter of a minor benchmark for some may be a significant, life-affirming achievement for others. As I noted, this short story isn’t the making of a Lifetime network movie (perhaps the greater achievement, of which this is a small part, could be), but it does illustrate how the spark of accomplishment and a little tenacity can go a long way.
The Dairy Queen Story, by Xena
Once upon a time, there was a 30-something chickadee, mother of 2, freshly divorced, who was taking karate and training to get her black belt. Girl, she looked *hot*! True, she wasn't svelte or back down to less than 150, but she was a strong mofo and kicked ass in sparring. Plus she could do real pushups!
Anyhoo, this lovely, confident chickadee was in her Black Belt Phase, which lasted 14 weeks, no more, no less. In this time, she had to attend extra Black Belt Phase classes and write essays and do community service and other character-building type stuff. These things were no problem for Ms. Xena, who happened to be especially good at attending extra classes and writing essays and doing community service. However, and this wouldn't be a very exciting Story if there wasn't a "However", she also had to run 3 miles in 30 minutes, no more but less was even better. Ms. Xena was not very good at the running of the miles in 10-minute increments, and her shin splints certainly did not enjoy this either.
Fortunately, our heroine had the choice to bike 15 miles in 64 minutes (also no more but less was even better). You may say "pshaw, that's nuttin'!". Perhaps not for you, triathlete goddess that you are. For me, I mean for Xena, this was a challenge. The course had a massive hill and several not-so-massive-but-almost-as-challenging hills, and it went by the river, which had a secret wish to slow cyclists down by constantly sending wind off its banks no matter which direction you were going. Not to mention crazy northeast drivers.
Xena was not going to let this stop her, though, nosirreebob! She bought a magnetic trainer to train indoors since it was January, and she actually got on the device a couple times a week. Her ischial tuberosities even got used to being crushed on the hard bicycle seat. She enjoyed listening to the Police (editors note: Next To You is a great interval training song!!!) and sweating and making progress.
Before she knew it, it was March and time for the first Ride. If she made her time on this first Ride, she would be set for the next 14 weeks. Of course, she would still have to do the ride anyway, but at least the pressure would be off.
I wish I could say this was part of the storytelling, to make it tense and interesting and have the reader on the edge of their seat to tell them that Ms. Xena did not in fact make her time on the first ride. I wish I could say that I'm making it up when I tell you that Ms. Xena did not in fact check her tires for proper pressure after taking the bike off the trainer. It would also not be fabrication or embellishment to tell you that Ms. Xena could not in fact go very fast at ALL with such low pressure in her bicycle tires, and that Ms. Xena was in tears less than 2 miles into the Ride as she saw all her friends pulling far far far ahead of her because they in fact *did* check on the pressure in their tires before attempting to ride 15 miles and she was NEVER going to make her time or get her black belt, and how she must be fat and out of shape if she couldn't do such a simple thing as ride her bicycle up a hill. *sniff* Are you crying yet, dear reader? If not, then you are truly heartless and should watch Scrooged or Cars before continuing on with my story.
Still with me? Yes, it wasn't a pretty sight. Some nice already-got-their-Black-Belts, just-there-for-encouragement dudes helped Ms. Xena realize that her problem was not her big badonkadonk, but her lack of air pressure, and that she would make the time next weekend, when we get to do the same thing all over again at seven a.m. on a Sunday morning. Ms. Xena was very skeptical but didn't have much of a choice, if she truly wanted her black belt more than anything else in the world, except maybe dinner with John Cusack (before she found out that he hated Better Off Dead. WTF?!).
So, our wise heroine filled her tires with the proper pressure and bought one of those air compressor do-hickeys that plugs into one's car cigarette lighter, when one isn't lighting up cigarettes, that is, so that she could always have proper tire pressure no matter what. The next Sunday morning at seven a.m., our fearless warrior set off once again to conquer man and nature, and several potholes, because this *was* post-winter in New England, after all. Can you guess what happened on that Sunday? If you guessed that Ms. Xena made her time, you would be horribly wrong and much too optimistic.
In fact, Ms. Xena did not make her time that Sunday, nor the next one. It's been several years now, so the author may not *exactly* remember just how many sundays this went on for, but it was a lot. At this point, many other Black Belt Phase candidates had made their time and therefore joined in the fun of helping their comrades do the same. Oh, joy.
One sunny spring Sunday seven a.m. Ride, Ms. Xena was joined by one of the Black Belt Phase candidates parents. I would just like to say up front that this man was trying very hard to be very supportive and doing a very fine job at it, and Ms. Xena certainly appreciated this man's support and encouragement. She made the halfway point in record time (at least it was a record for her!), and was very positive about this being The Sunday that she made her time.
Along this route, there is a Dairy Queen, which we in New England call DQ for short, 'cause we are all that. This DQ is less than a mile from the end of the route, and after the DQ there is a little hill up to a set of lights, and then a bunch of parked cars to avoid for the final stretch. Mr. BB parent was with me, we're pushing hard. He looks at his watch as we have the DQ in our sights....uh oh, only 4 minutes to make it. Ms. Xena, huffin' and puffin' and feeling a little nauseous: "I don't think I can make it". Mr. BBP: "I'm not sure if you're going to make it either." Well, that's all our little heroine needed to hear to give up. She immediately slowed way the hell down as she passed the DQ, and certainly did not make her time that day.
I am sad to report that if Ms. Xena had *not* given up, had pushed it just a tinge more that last less-than-a-mile stretch, she surely would have made her time that day, because she still rang in a hair under 2 minutes. BIG SIGH. She was very unhappy with herself. She surely realized that she should not have given up, and maybe she should go back and watch Rudy one more time. Or When Harry Met Sally. After sufficiently beating herself up and crying a few pitiful tears, she went home to wait for the next Sunday seven a.m. Ride.
And now it would be appropriate to share with you, mostly because our story has dragged on long enough and has fulfilled the angst quota, that our weary Ms. Xena did in fact make her time that spring, and went on to achieve her Black Belt, which continues to be one of the greatest accomplishments in her life. She was proud to receive her Black Belt along with her daughter, who had made her own running time (1.5 miles in 15 minutes) much earlier that spring; this elevates the story to the Proud Momma level, y'know.
(Zen - just an FYI, Xena's daughter was like 8 years old at the time)
That fall, when she had to do it all over again (oh, did I not mention that the spring phase was for Conditional Black Belt???), she in fact made her time the very first Ride of the year, and in fact made it in less than sixty, count them, six-tee whole minutes!!! She still believes the river winds were sleeping that warm fall morning.
Ever since then, she has used the Dairy Queen Story as a moral in her life, for the times when it seems like nothing is going to succeed and it's practically too late anyway so why don't you throw in the towel and call it a day already? Those truly are the times to push harder, as cliché as that may sound. I guess clichés are still around for a reason, eh?