Meet you at the finish line...

The other day, my husband and I met a man who was wearing a dozen track and field medals around his neck.  He earned them in Special Olympics events and was deservedly proud.  We praised him for his achievement and he went on about his day. 

Such an accomplishment always gets my attention because it represents something that I just absolutely do not have:  ambition.  I have no drive.  I have no competitive streak.  Therefore, I have no medals.  I have no trophies.  And I’m totally OK with that.

Wait, I take that back.  I did receive a trophy once!  For bookkeeping during a fourth grade tetherball tournament.  Mr. Schenke was probably trying to foster some sense of triumph with that.  But it really just fostered embarrassment.  I didn’t do anything to merit a trophy so it didn’t feel right to get one.

I was an active kid.  I rode my bike all day long.  I climbed trees and hiked.  I built things and jumped in leaves.  In the summer, I swam and rowed canoes or floated down rivers in innertubes.  None of those things brought any reward other than fun and adventure.  The sure-fire way to ruin my enjoyment was to throw a ball into the mix or to suggest a contest of any sort.

I was a pretty good student.  But I failed gym.  A lot.  I was the last picked for every team – for good reason.  I didn’t even try and everyone knew it.  Every kid knew that throwing a ball my way would only mean that I would step aside and let it drop.  No one was going to win anything with me on the team.  Looking back, I see that the only gym class activities that ever appealed to me were solitary endeavors like archery and weight lifting.  I never minded hitting a tennis ball against a wall or shooting a ball into a basket, but the moment it became a game with rules and competition, I was finished.

I never ran for the joy of it.  Even as a child.  I never ran on purpose.  For me, there is no joy in it.  As more and more of my friends are jumping in to marathons and charity runs, I understand it less and less.  Maybe one day there will be a 10K stroll on a beach.  I can get behind that.

My missing bloodthirst goes way beyond physical activity.  I also loathe Monopoly and other board games that bring out the worst in people.  Greed doesn’t appeal to me in the real world, I sure can’t fire it up for fake money.  I do love games like Scrabble for the brain challenge, but I couldn’t care less about the score.  Which, I guess, kind of sums me up.  I couldn’t care less about the score.

I did well enough in school with little effort.  I tested well and was in gifted programs, but I just didn’t care about grades.  All of that left me under the radar, I guess, and when the time came to make plans for my future, I had none.  I never had an answer for the old “What do you want to be when you grow up?” question.  I don’t recall any guidance counselor or any teacher urging me towards degrees or a goal.  Maybe it happened and I wasn’t paying attention.

I’m a responsible person.  I knew I had to do something.  But I also knew that I would never be able to do things the traditional way.  I tried, a bit.  I walked conventional paths for a time, but my focus always drifted to the more interesting things OFF the course.

Hopping from rock to rock will get you across the river.  So will following the road with the bridge.  Both options get you to your destination.  The road and the bridge are safe.  Tested and reliable.  Guaranteed to get you there.  The “shortcut” across the river can be dangerous.  You can slip and fall.  You might get hurt.  If you get caught in the current, you’ll definitely get wet and have to scramble back up on a new rock.  You might need to go back to a rock already visited to revise your approach, but once you start crossing the river, it’s much harder to get to the safer bridge so you may as well stick with the rocks.

I certainly know plenty of people who set goals, knew what they wanted, travelled the road with the bridge and are perfectly happy.  And I know many who opted for the road and looked longingly at the river below so they jumped in.  I obviously chose the rocks and the river.  I surely could have used the bridge.  I’m glad I didn’t.  I’m having fun down here on the rocks and I’m still making my way across the river!

So maybe I’m not so different from my medal-wearing, trophy-polishing friends after all.  Their drive and ambition is more visible and clear.  They know what they’re going after and see how they’re going to achieve their goals.  Meanwhile, I may look like I’m wandering aimlessly, but I’m actually achieving my goals with each leap forward.

What do I want to be when I grow up?  Happy.  Loved.  Entertained.  Present.  Oh – wait!  I AM that!  I win!  I’ll pick up my trophy on the other side.