VOLUNTARY FEAR
“Why, why,
why?”
It wasn’t a
neighborhood four year-old, it’s your best friend or a coworker or maybe your
parents. I was spreading the news of my intent to run my first marathon. “But
you’ve never run that far before.” they’d say. It was the summer of 2005 and I was preparing
for the Portland Marathon. I weighed well north of 200 lbs. and I had no idea what I was doing, but my credit
card statement said that I was a willing participant. What can possibly go
wrong over 26.2 miles? October 9, 2005, is a day that I will never forget. My
efforts garnished a 3:49:40 finish. I was asked if I had won the race, or if I
had won any money. Unfortunately, I had neither, but dammit, I was a
marathoner! Nobody, at any time, now or in the future, will be able to take
that away from me.
Fast forward
over 16 additional marathons, one ultra, and a handful of multisport races with
a bazillion other races sprinkled in…
“Why, why,
why?”
This time
around, it’s not about the running, it’s the writing. I want to contribute to a
blog, a blog that whose readers will be 99% women. “But you’ve never had any
writings published before.” So what? So what if I’m out of my element, AGAIN?
So what if I feel like Kody Brown on “Sister Wives?” I won’t get any fame and I
won’t become flush with riches. Maybe, just maybe, I’m addicted to voluntary
fear?
What’s
voluntary fear, you say? It’s a new term that I just made up, made up out of
thin air. Fabricated. A term produced, birthed, calved… similar to fart smucker, but much more
classy. Something that my Mom can support.
Voluntary fear is when you put yourself in an uncomfortable situation in
which you’re the guppy. Heck, I’m the new kid on the school bus. Is there a
seat open for me?
My adventures
in blog writing are just about to begin.
This is my initial offering. People always say that you’ll remember your
first time. I think they mean something else, probably something that my Mom
wouldn’t get behind. This is something that I want to do. Nobody is forcing me,
and nobody certainly asked. I want this, I want this badly.
I want my
readers to give voluntary fear a whirl. For us guys, it might be hitting the
dance floor, getting a pedicure or perhaps asking out that blonde hottie that
you’ve had your eye on. For the ladies, try joining the weightlifting class at
your gym, or try your first 5K or change your car’s oil. It doesn’t have to be on
the grand scale. Have voluntary fear, it builds character.
I don’t consider these miscellaneous ramblings
to be equivalent to walking on the moon.
I consider this to be my trek under the St. Louis Gateway Arch as I
travel to new beginnings. Perhaps I’ll become a real-life blogger? I am strong
and I am willing. And this is something that nobody, at any time, now or in the
future, will ever be able to take away from me.
