Some ways one can mend, some shouldn’t be mended.
Not for the first time I have to conclude that I am one of the least competitive people who have ever walked this earth. Everyone appears to enter contests – running, writing, cooking, best dress, biggest fish … you name it, whatever. People will compete, measuring themselves against each other: Gold, silver, bronze. First, second, third. I don’t get it. I so don’t get that I sometimes wonder whether I am looking from the outside in.
Slave to my tendency to wish to get to the bottom (and I mean scraping the barrel) of everything I recently asked myself whether I am just a bloody coward. Whether my refusal to enter any competition, in whatever sphere of life, just means that I’d hate to lose. That in truth, cruel light of day, I am SO competitive that entering a competition gives me the jitters because I can’t face coming second. Yes, enter pause for thought. Go into your heart. Dig. Assess soil. Dig some more. Remove smoke screen.
Fact is I am not competitive. Which is not a virtue but a curse. I don’t give a damn. One can analyze the shit out of it, look at it from all sides like a Rubik cube – fact is, competitions don’t mean anything to me. When I couldn’t avoid being entered into something and I won – it meant nothing to me. Nothing. I look at other people and their joy in the face of ‘success’ in wonderment. Someone once put forward that I – best case scenario – so rest in myself or – worst case scenario – have such arrogance that I don’t need the world’s approval. It is true. I am my one and only judge. Though will take the jury of those dear to me into account before condemning myself to a life of hard labour to condone my sin of just skipping along.
U
It is not the winning but the taking part etc. There is something of that in you I think. It may be subconcious but it is evidenced by a combative streak that shows from time to time.
Somewhere, this morning, I read of a person (Male or female? I cannot remember) who loves to run and belongs to a club, They compete in race and always come last but it doesnot matter as they say tha running has taught them more about life than anything else. I understand that idea as when I used to run I was my only real competition. Mind you there was always a secret feeling of glee when I did better than anyone who put themselves forward as better than I.
As for Olympian achievement. I wish that I had thoughtto apply for a few tickets so that I could accompany you to watchsome events. I suspect that you might display a certain degree of Teutonic(?) admiration of the sheer beauty of physically “perfect” specimens perform. After all the stadium is just “down the road” from here, bus drivers permitting.
Comment by David — June 24, 2012 @ 11:57 |
Why thanks, David. What a sweet thought us going to the Olympics together. Though you would have to put me on a leash lest I might join the race.
I loved running. Still do. Sprints. Not marathons. Marathons bored me not so much to tears as to one big yawn. I may have related this before: At school, in our late teens, every week we were timed as to our speed on the 100 meter. I was pretty damn fast but there was one in my class even faster, Susanne. She was tall – as in “long long long legs” and ambitious to boot. She flew like the wind. We had to run in pairs. Not stupid I’d always choose her as my running partner: She pulled me along – to this day I remember that delicious sensation of sticking close to her heel. There was never any question of me beating her. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that she made me faster than if I had had a sack of potatoes somewhere behind me in the middle distance. And our teacher’s stopwatch was proof of my strategy. Great memory of mine. Wonder what became of her
“Combative”? Yes, David, that I am. Sometimes people take it the wrong way. To me it’s just an intellectual exercise. A bit like sharpening knives.
U
Comment by Ursula — June 24, 2012 @ 19:36 |
Ah! Now I always wanted to run a Marathon….. Not long before I had tos top running (damaged my ankle and knees being silly with sons) I had my half marathon time down to 1hr 30 (Not at all bad for someone aged 45) so my predicted marathon time was about 3hrs 15mins – 30 mins. Certainly I would have been well able to last that long as I could run for five hours at a stretch at the time…loved it…Sillitoe had it all wrong..it’s not the lOneliness of the long distance runner but the “alone ness” which is important……… on the track there is nothing to beat a middle or longer sidtance race…. you see you have to use your brain and work out your tactics. I always thnk that the sprints (up to 400m) are about focus for a short while and then …it’s all over.
Comment by David — June 26, 2012 @ 00:00 |
David, if nothing else “The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner” makes a catching title.
And there is a loneliness in being pitted against each other. Since I do most things when asked I’d run a marathon. But I’d still hate it. And I have the stamina of an ox. To me whatever you do in life has to have a point. and I am afraid I don’t see the point in running for hours without a tangible aim (say, to rescue someone, including myself). If there is one sporting event I hate it’s the London marathon. People killing themselves. Why? Why? Why? Why? It’s a mystery to me. And I say this as someone who used to get up at six in the morning, jog along the canal (Milton Keynes), my only company along the way being cows. And the odd sheep.
Which reminds me: Do you remember that advert a few years ago of a man being dumped by his mates in the middle of nowhere (say, the desert) at the end of his stag night? It was brilliant. Wish I’d thought of it myself. He finds himself with little time to go and only his underpants on. I felt for him. I so felt for him. He was dashing and he RAN. With purpose. And he made it to the altar – on time, in a suit. The romance of it. If only his bride knew.
Actually, come to think of it it was probably an advert for a credit card. People are scathing about advertising. But a a good advert is pure art.
U
Comment by Ursula — June 26, 2012 @ 04:15 |
I learned to run at school (boarding) and at college. I did it so that I could have time (and, I suppose, space) to myself ……..one can think whilst running…. Even in a big event I would have been able to be isolated in the crowd..now that for some would be loneliness… as for tangible aims… woudl trying to be faster this time be tangible enough?
BTW were they concrete cows?
Comment by David — June 26, 2012 @ 16:20 |
I was in Canada with a friend & her family when I was about 13. I entered a swimming race. I couldn’t dive so everybody had to jump in, which nobody liked. I won the race. That didn’t make them like me.
None of my siblings could dive either, which was strange because we were swimming everyday. I found out why when I was reading Mother’s diary after she died. She hit the diving board when she was trying a back flip.
I don’t remember her ever saying not to try diving. But we must have got the message.
Comment by bikehikebabe — June 24, 2012 @ 16:03 |
Oh, Cynthia, it’s funny (or maybe not) what we pick up from our parents by osmosis. Reminds me of trying to disguise my absolute disgust at spiders, trying to hide it from the Angel when he was little. Needless to say that you may smile and say “nice little big fat spider”, rescue it with a glass and put it outside, it doesn’t work. You can’t fool the fruit of your loins who can read your face and your body language like a book. If anything he (still) is more terrified of spiders than I am.
Well, all I can say with regards to your mother’s back flip: Ambition doesn’t always pay. I loved swimming. I loved diving. In fact, I made little bets with myself how long I could stay down under before drowning. I’d jump from a ten meter. But only ever straight down. No fancy back flips for me.
Other than that: Congratulations on winning the race. And those losers who didn’t like you winning only have themselves to blame.
U
Comment by Ursula — June 24, 2012 @ 19:52 |
Today I squashed a cricket in the hall. Left goo on the floor. (They keep you awake at night, little bastards.) I scooped him up on cardboard but I could see him wriggling. He got to his feet by the time I got to the wastepaper basket (bin), jumped off & ran under the washing machine, all the while I’m stomping at him. He got away.
Comment by bikehikebabe — June 25, 2012 @ 21:10 |
I think we learn to compete as soon as we enter the world. School events reinforce this. Why can’t we all just be happy with participation?
Comment by writingfeemail — June 25, 2012 @ 01:49 |
Being competitive is human nature. And there is nothing wrong with it per se. If anything it’s a force to push ourselves – otherwise, who knows, we may still live in caves. Or not at all. Unfortunately people will take it to ridiculous levels. Even cheat to win. What sort of hollow victory is that?
Did I mention that, on sports day, I won the mothers’ race? Don’t laugh. I was determined to (!) if only to wipe the smile off one of the other mothers’ face. Mother? An overly ambitious bully to her own child more like it. Terrible. Absolutely terrible.
U
Comment by Ursula — June 25, 2012 @ 04:13 |
I’m not buying it Ursula.
You may not care a whit about competitions, but for some reason but I suspect you are uber competitive, even if only with yourself. That burning motivation to get to the bottom of things is not a trait of the uncompetitive. And of course, any desire and attempt to prove me wrong in my observation speaks a little to your competitive spirit as well. Bet you can’t just acquiesce and agree I am right…
And just to taunt you…
Comment by Phil — June 25, 2012 @ 17:01 |
Never slow to burst anyone’s balloon, even yours: I can acquiesce. And you are right. Now what?
Insert upside down smiley walking sideways, At a measured pace.
U
Comment by Ursula — June 25, 2012 @ 17:21 |
Now what? I haven’t a clue. I’ll get back to you once I figure out if I won or lost…
Comment by Phil — June 25, 2012 @ 20:10 |
Rephrase, Phil: … “whether I have been won or am lost”.
U
Comment by Ursula — June 25, 2012 @ 20:18 |
OK, you win…
Comment by Phil — June 26, 2012 @ 03:57 |
Phil….Ursula….lovely little compettition there!
Never learned to swim as a child but had to teach children to swim back in the 70s and 80s. Famously a new (trained) swimming instructor approached me and said how good it was to see a properly trained swimming teacher as a classroom teacher….. that is what i was…a teacher…. study what you have to teach and learn then teach!
School bus driver to me, “You Mr Mills?”
“Yes. Don’t tell me I taught you. Who are you?”
“Yes. I’m “X”…”
“I remember yu. You won the Borough Diving Trophy.”
“That’s right. You taught me to dive and you can’t even swim you bugger.”
Oh yes…he had picked my class and I up to take us to the swimming pool.
Small world!
Oh yes I did learn to swim….. that was also contributory tomy giving up running…..breast stroke can kill knees.!
Comment by David — June 26, 2012 @ 00:11 |