What a feeling!
I closed my eyes and let the wave of applause from the appreciative and excited audience wash over me. Wow, this feels good!
"You'll never receive a medal, let alone a plaque or a certificate!" my father used to say to me as I stood in front of his bursting-at-the-seams trophy case in our basement. Why he decided to make a trophy case out of cloth was as bewildering as it was inspiring, especially to my best friend Andy's dad, who owned the local fabric store.
I was never sure if my father was just trying to motivate me the only way he knew how or just being honest because his father was never honest with him and he swore to his father on his death bed that he would not only earn countless medals, but also always be truthful to his children even when it became readily apparent that they would never earn their own medals. My grandfather appreciated this honesty, even if it was quite narrow in its scope.
I was never sure if my father was just trying to motivate me the only way he knew how or just being honest because his father was never honest with him and he swore to his father on his death bed that he would not only earn countless medals, but also always be truthful to his children even when it became readily apparent that they would never earn their own medals. My grandfather appreciated this honesty, even if it was quite narrow in its scope.
For a time, as a child, I thought my dad had said I'd never have any metals in my life and I remember racing home from school with a bag literally overflowing with scraps of aluminum they were just going to throw away at the elementary school. "Those idiots!" I laughed to myself as I sped home dreaming of my father's embrace and pride at my literal bounty of aluminium. To this day I can still hear his derisive laughter in my ears. Why did he have to stand so close to my ears?
"Aluminum? A soft metal? Is that the best you can do? I didn't raise a young boy of 9 to love aluminum! And I was talking about medals, with a 'd'! Learn to listen to me as I speak words to you using my mouth and occasionally my tongue based on my rudimentary understanding of speech! Do you fully understand that concept, or do you need me to act out a short scene?" I hated when he threatened me with acting. He was a great actor, that wasn't it, it was just that the acting made me realize just how poor my own acting skills were compared to his.
He'd go on and on about medals he'd received in wrestling competitions, at dog shows, and during the rare wrestling competitions that evolved organically into a dog show. He won them all even though he didn't even own a dog on the grounds that he felt dog ownership was "so last week" and that human dog relations were ready for a revolution. He'd tell me all about his radical, scary and inspirational ideas about the future of dogs vis a vis humans while waxing his muscles depending on the current sheen of his muscles at the time. It had to be just right so no one would be blinded or bored by their dullness.
He'd go on and on about medals he'd received in wrestling competitions, at dog shows, and during the rare wrestling competitions that evolved organically into a dog show. He won them all even though he didn't even own a dog on the grounds that he felt dog ownership was "so last week" and that human dog relations were ready for a revolution. He'd tell me all about his radical, scary and inspirational ideas about the future of dogs vis a vis humans while waxing his muscles depending on the current sheen of his muscles at the time. It had to be just right so no one would be blinded or bored by their dullness.
Had I used his words to motivate me? My wife said that I had. My mom said that I had. My barber didn't say anything as he was a selective mute, but cut hair like it was his chosen career to do so. He once cut hair like it was going out of style, but it was affecting his business too much so he changed. He also wore the same sweater to work for 12 consecutive days once because he believed that it was either good luck or at least better luck than the current state of non-luck he was experiencing. On the 12th day he burned the sweater and then promptly won at bingo that evening which led him to burn a single sweater on the anniversary of that day each year.
I knew, deep down inside, that my father pushed me in ways he'd never know including some ways that he would know because how could you not be aware when you were physically pushing someone using your arms with your eyes open while the person being pushed is saying "you are pushing me, you do realize?" and "enough with the constant pushing" and "you must stop, the neighbours are starting to stare, more than usual, which must be causing them significant eye strain".
I knew, deep down inside, that my father pushed me in ways he'd never know including some ways that he would know because how could you not be aware when you were physically pushing someone using your arms with your eyes open while the person being pushed is saying "you are pushing me, you do realize?" and "enough with the constant pushing" and "you must stop, the neighbours are starting to stare, more than usual, which must be causing them significant eye strain".
As I remembered the past, I stood there on the podium smiling in a way unlike I'd ever smiled before. I had practiced for the occasion. I had run fast, just like my coach had suggested. I had initially countered with a suggestion of starting fast, but then slowing down just to throw people off and then he suggested alternating slow, fast, slow, fast every 5 seconds if my main goal was confusing others and giving my knees more than I bargained for. We continued this way far into the night and then up until race time when he threatened to shave my hair and sell it to the local bedding store, which he knew I was opposed to a variety of levels, including level 1. I sprinted away from him and his shears and won the race. The glory was mine and I couldn't wait to go home and run my fingers through my hair in front of the mirror, so my hair could watch this time.
I left the podium and stood under an arch for photos and grew slightly jealous that the photographers were a little more interested in the arch, but I let it go, as it was a really nice arch. Maybe in a different life the two of us could have been really close, or as close as a man and an arch can be in this country. I knew that the arch reminded me of something, "probably just another arch" I thought to myself, and even though I knew I was right, I wished I wasn't. It was confounding contradictions like that both drove away countless girlfriends and roommates all who insisted on keeping the toaster and led me to meeting my wife. She was lover of fine wines, sharp cheeses and confounding contradictions and I hit in out of the park on all three. Those hours we spend looking around in that park trying to find all that I had irresponsibly hit out there, was when we fell in love.
And there she was now, walking towards me with a huge smile on her face that seemed to indicate that she has happy and that she could even take that smile to a whole new level if the situation came up. I ran to her and lifted her up and momentarily wished that I could twirl her above my head as if she was a baton. I wished I owned a baton for those moments, however fleeting they were. After placing her down, I tried to hint that it was my turn to be lifted, but my hints were either too subtle or she was ignoring them as she told me she would if I ever hinted at something just after leaving a podium.
We walked off the track, hand in hand, and left through the exit, which also functioned from time to time as an entrance. I commented that sometimes exits were just exits and other times exits were actually entrances to something else and that if you thought about it, exits are quite beautiful and also quite scary. I went on to share a hope I have for the future where all the people of the earth can join together and live in harmony and that all exits and entrances can be rendered obsolete.
My wife turned to me and asked me to shut up. She rarely made a request for me to shut up, and when she did, it was usually in writing. She always wanted me to cease talking immediately and to maintain that level of silence until I believed she would want me to make noise again, with the only exception being comments about the changing of the weather as she liked to be kept appraised of any and all weather changes.
As we approached our car in silence, I remembered the day we got married and how we ate croissant after croissant after croissant. How fresh and exciting our unique brand of reckless-French-pastry-consuming love was! Sometimes, even today years later, when I walk past a bakery, the amazing buttery smell of the croissants recently removed from the ovens makes me shudder and clutch my stomach and remember the bliss of our wedding day up until the consuming of the croissants went a little too far.
Sitting there in the car as we drove to the airport to fly home, it occurred to me that I had achieved everything I had left home all those years ago to achieve. I'd found a beautiful and supportive wife, I'd earned a medal that my father never believed I'd win, and I'd conquered my irrational fear of flying in airplanes thanks to hours upon hours of therapy. True, I'd fallen deeply in love with my therapist which almost cost me my marriage as well as my desire to earn medals from running, as I always believed that a love one has with a therapist is a medal in and of itself. Thankfully, I came to my senses just in time. And to think I initially scoffed at a smelling salt company as a sponsor.
Sitting on the airplane, I close my eyes and relax into my seat and drift off to sleep. I had a reoccurring dream where I am walking with my wife in an open field, holding my pet bunny rabbit from my youth under one arm and a giant croissant in the other. In the dream, I then realize that I was the pet bunny rabbit from my youth all along and my wife is my dental hygienist and the person I initially though was me was actually a giant stack of soggy newspapers. Then the dream transitions again and now I'm the croissant and my wife and my father are eating me and laughing all the while hurling insults at me about my inability to earn even a certificate seeing as I'm a croissant and I'll soon be eaten. The dream ends with the two of them licking the crumbs off the ground and then hopping away like bunnies while I settled down to an evening of commercial-free TV.
I wake, shake off the feelings of doubt and fear and being literally consumed by close family members and am overwhelmed with a desire to stand on a podium again, only this time, with freshly polished teeth.
I left the podium and stood under an arch for photos and grew slightly jealous that the photographers were a little more interested in the arch, but I let it go, as it was a really nice arch. Maybe in a different life the two of us could have been really close, or as close as a man and an arch can be in this country. I knew that the arch reminded me of something, "probably just another arch" I thought to myself, and even though I knew I was right, I wished I wasn't. It was confounding contradictions like that both drove away countless girlfriends and roommates all who insisted on keeping the toaster and led me to meeting my wife. She was lover of fine wines, sharp cheeses and confounding contradictions and I hit in out of the park on all three. Those hours we spend looking around in that park trying to find all that I had irresponsibly hit out there, was when we fell in love.
And there she was now, walking towards me with a huge smile on her face that seemed to indicate that she has happy and that she could even take that smile to a whole new level if the situation came up. I ran to her and lifted her up and momentarily wished that I could twirl her above my head as if she was a baton. I wished I owned a baton for those moments, however fleeting they were. After placing her down, I tried to hint that it was my turn to be lifted, but my hints were either too subtle or she was ignoring them as she told me she would if I ever hinted at something just after leaving a podium.
We walked off the track, hand in hand, and left through the exit, which also functioned from time to time as an entrance. I commented that sometimes exits were just exits and other times exits were actually entrances to something else and that if you thought about it, exits are quite beautiful and also quite scary. I went on to share a hope I have for the future where all the people of the earth can join together and live in harmony and that all exits and entrances can be rendered obsolete.
My wife turned to me and asked me to shut up. She rarely made a request for me to shut up, and when she did, it was usually in writing. She always wanted me to cease talking immediately and to maintain that level of silence until I believed she would want me to make noise again, with the only exception being comments about the changing of the weather as she liked to be kept appraised of any and all weather changes.
As we approached our car in silence, I remembered the day we got married and how we ate croissant after croissant after croissant. How fresh and exciting our unique brand of reckless-French-pastry-consuming love was! Sometimes, even today years later, when I walk past a bakery, the amazing buttery smell of the croissants recently removed from the ovens makes me shudder and clutch my stomach and remember the bliss of our wedding day up until the consuming of the croissants went a little too far.
Sitting there in the car as we drove to the airport to fly home, it occurred to me that I had achieved everything I had left home all those years ago to achieve. I'd found a beautiful and supportive wife, I'd earned a medal that my father never believed I'd win, and I'd conquered my irrational fear of flying in airplanes thanks to hours upon hours of therapy. True, I'd fallen deeply in love with my therapist which almost cost me my marriage as well as my desire to earn medals from running, as I always believed that a love one has with a therapist is a medal in and of itself. Thankfully, I came to my senses just in time. And to think I initially scoffed at a smelling salt company as a sponsor.
Sitting on the airplane, I close my eyes and relax into my seat and drift off to sleep. I had a reoccurring dream where I am walking with my wife in an open field, holding my pet bunny rabbit from my youth under one arm and a giant croissant in the other. In the dream, I then realize that I was the pet bunny rabbit from my youth all along and my wife is my dental hygienist and the person I initially though was me was actually a giant stack of soggy newspapers. Then the dream transitions again and now I'm the croissant and my wife and my father are eating me and laughing all the while hurling insults at me about my inability to earn even a certificate seeing as I'm a croissant and I'll soon be eaten. The dream ends with the two of them licking the crumbs off the ground and then hopping away like bunnies while I settled down to an evening of commercial-free TV.
I wake, shake off the feelings of doubt and fear and being literally consumed by close family members and am overwhelmed with a desire to stand on a podium again, only this time, with freshly polished teeth.
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