What am I insecure about? Does anyone really care?
I probably don’t. I’m one of those “suck it up and get it done” type people. So I can’t say that my insecurities, or anyone else’s, have been on my mind much. I don't want to depress myself by dwelling on my inadequacies, so I just try to improve them or ignore them. Hopefully, I can keep working to improve, especially in my writing. So do something about it or shut up, I tell myself when I start to agonize about life and the written word. No one wants to hear your whining.
Of course, IWSG does want to hear whining, albeit on a limited basis (once a month). I had to dig deep to figure out what to write about this month. Usually, I like to bury my worries deep, DEEP down until they threaten to choke me. Then I let them erupt in a display of lights, colors and chicken wings. By the way, if you haven’t eaten Hooter’s 3 Mile Island Wings during an emotional outburst, you’re missing out. You can’t feel worried or upset if you’ve got a plate of those inside you. I mean, you can, but your worries take a distinctly different bent.
Seriously, though, the only concern I have is the fact that a soon-to-be former friend signed me up for a 5K run in December. What’s wrong with that?
I DON’T RUN. AT ALL.
The race is an event that helps a cause near and dear to my heart, which is me getting to take a super cheap trip to New Orleans. My friend said that signing up meant that we’d have a great place to stay and access to some cool events which are usually sold out, courtesy of another friend who’s coordinating it and who wants us there.
Cheap trip, great food, friends around, what could go wrong? Me running, that’s what. First of all, I don’t want to, because running feels like dying. I can feel my body disintegrating with each step. Second, I’ll have to start training for it, so I don’t embarrass myself. My friend says I can walk it, but I don’t want to be keeping pace with the “over 70” or “under 12” or "suffering from MS" crowd. Third, I still don’t want to. I like to exercise, but not to run.
I asked if I could ride my bike, but she said no. Apparently using Rollerblades or a Segway is frowned upon as well. I told her I didn’t want to be part of such a narrow-minded group of people who can’t embrace differences, and she just told me to shut up and get some Asics. She’s got our practice route mapped out and keeps nagging me to get started. "You'll love it!" she assured me. "You'll feel such a sense of accomplishment!"
I feel a sense of accomplishment and more fulfilled when I put away that plate of 3 Mile Island wings. But I haven't been able to weasel out of the 5K yet. So I'm grudgingly going outside and stomping on the asphalt. Wish me luck! I'm hoping luck comes in the form of temporary lower body paralysis, the kind that hits one day of the year and lasts about 8 hours.