Gaining enough momentum to get past the point of no return.
It's five past eight, I'm late, and I don't even want to go, anyway.
UGH.
Ok, fine. Yes, I do.
But I'm in my kitchen, still trying to finalize a game plan.
My friend called last night after a multi-week game of phone tag. It just restarts once we inevitably connect anyway, which is kind of the whole point, but this had been a particularly impressive back-n-forth. "What are you doing tomorrow?" he'd asked, without preamble. It was the way he asked it. That's what always gives him away...
He already has plans for us. I'm sure of it. I've known him for almost 15 years, so I was well aware that I'd just been ensnared in what would probably turn out to be an incredibly fun last minute plan. That's his specialty. For a guy who lives and breathes procedural integrity as a med school student, he does incredibly well with spontaneity.
"Wanna go skiing?"
Um, what?
My mind starts racing. I know he means snowboarding, but that hadn't been what I was expecting at all. Truthfully I'd already accepted the end of the snow season and was actually excited to go for a longer run in the sun by the lake. But then I realize we never got to go together this season. I thought about countering with a proposal to grab coffee instead, but then did some quick math: car ride there, gearing up in the lot, time on the chairlift, car ride home. That'd be a lot more time to chat and catch up.
So here I am, running late and scrambling between the closet and the kitchen while getting ready to go. It's a stunningly beautiful morning. The sun's out, and I already know I'm going to be dripping sweat if I wear my hoodie. And yet, I slept like shit, I'm irritable, and I'm seriously considering just un-making the bed and crawling back into it. But the coffee's brewing, which is good; I'll be needing that if I'm going to find enough energy to hop over patches of rocks and grass while sliding downhill through some slush on May 16th. I still need to fish my boots out of the closet, and I should probably grab my board while I'm thinking about it so I don't forget that either...
He's lucky I love him.
On second thought, I'm the lucky one.
I know it'll be fun. Pushing myself to get my things and get my ass out the door is the right move today. Especially because he and I don't get to see as much of each other as we used to. Sure, I'm tired, but the thing I'm actually worried about is that snowboarding will stir up a bunch of messy shit for me. Sometimes I tell myself I'm supposed to love it because I always have, but making it my job ruined it for me and I've never quite been able to get it back. So in recent years when I've gone, I feel this gap between how much I'm supposed to love it and how much I actually do. And that has a tendency to, well... make me sad. Since I'm aware of this phenomenon, I sometimes resist opportunities to go at all. Like I'm doing right now.
Climbing into my truck to go meet my friend, I realize I've already done the hardest part. There's no more decision; I'm out the door and on the road. I'm past the point of no return on bailing, and that makes things so much easier. Maybe I don't actually have a fear of not liking snowboarding enough anymore.
Maybe this has just become a fear of... fear.
Our Daily MAP Year Prompt
258/365
What’s something you built up in your head so much that building it up became the problem?
onward.
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