When I was a little girl at summer camp (didn’t matter if it was sleep-a-way camp or day camp; I attended both), when an activity was coming up I really didn’t want to do, I would find something in nature, most memorably a large rock on the ground, and I wish I were that thing so I wouldn’t have to do the activity. I so badly didn’t want to do the activity I wished I were an inanimate object.
It was usually an activity I was scared of. Like dodge ball or BMX’ing. And as a little girl I was scared of most activities. I remember my mom telling me that when I was little I was afraid of literally everything, including my shadow and the water. I was never one to jump head first into anything. It was more like one toe a time. I didn’t like to get dirty or messy or hurt. I was cautious. In fact, my most notable childhood injuries came not from being involved in sports, but from being a bystander to them. The time I got hit in the head with a volleyball in high school was when I was walking past the volleyball game. And the only time I ever got stitches growing up was in fourth grade when a broken glass bowl, containing cookie dough, cut my leg. And the one year I was on a soccer team, I never actually played soccer. I was happy playing goalie because it meant I could stand there most of the game and not get “involved” with anything dangerous. The only problem was when the ball came my way.
Despite being overly cautious and scared of mostly everything, as I grew up I found ways to feel comfortable with life and its events and decisions. With big decisions I used my heart and my gut foremost. That’s how I decided to major in journalism. That’s how I chose West Virginia University as my college. That’s how I chose my first job after college. It’s how I moved to middle-of-nowhere Pennsylvania, to a town I’d never heard of, to live by myself in an apartment at the top of a house, just to write for a newspaper and have my byline in the paper every day. It’s how I chose my wedding dress, my wedding colors. It’s how I ended up married to Sean, in the house we’re in now, with Campbell.
I just knew. Something deep in my heart and gut and soul told me certain things were the right things for me at that time in my life. Some decisions weren’t always easy and oftentimes they were scary, but I always knew, deep down, they were right for me. And I made them with my heart and gut and never looked back, never regretted anything, and to this day continue to use my heart and my gut to make decisions.
It wasn’t always easy, it didn’t always make sense, sometimes it seemed ridiculous, it was usually scary or a challenge, but I knew, deep down, I had to do it. For me and for my life. It’s how I signed up for Tour de Pink. I just knew.
That’s not to say I don’t use my head. I think most people will agree I’m pretty level-headed about most decisions, using logic and reason and thinking about the future and the impacts of my decisions: how will this affect me now and later, and how will it affect the people around me? Does this make sense? Sure, I use my head. But it’s my heart and gut that give me that push I need to move forward.
To this day I am still scared of mostly everything, and still overly cautious. I’m scared of burglars, heights, complete darkness, fires and other disasters or bad things happening. My fears and anxieties have shifted from dodge ball and my shadow to actual real-life dangers. That’s why I think I have to be patient with myself. Just because I’ve made some really good decisions throughout life thus far and am in a happy, beautiful, wonderful place with a happy, beautiful, wonderful life, doesn’t mean I am a different person. It’s true I’ve grown and learned to adapt and have taught myself new things and new ways to think and live, but deep down part of me is still the little girl who is scared of getting hurt. Only this time it’s not from a dodge ball, but from bicycle riding.
Tour de Pink still is, and will be, one of the best things I ever do in my life. I want to be able to tell my future child or children someday that “Mommy rode her bike 200 miles.”
The best decisions are often the scariest. The scariest decisions are often the hardest. No decision is easy.
My heart and gut told me 1,000 different reasons to do Tour de Pink.
My head told me three:
1. I am physically capable of this so it wouldn’t damage my health. I have asked my doctor about it, and she approves. She says I am fine to do this ride. I’ve also had my heart checked, and it’s strong enough.
2. I am mentally capable of this. Sure, it will be a mind game, but I have overcome other mind games before.
3. There are no Jewish holidays, or home football games during Tour de Pink weekend.
See, I used my head? I checked with my doctor, I checked our schedule. And I used my heart and my gut, both of which simultaneously yelled at me to sign up for the ride. They nagged me, if you will.
My RoadID bracelet came in the mail yesterday, something Tour de Pink highly recommends for the ride. Plus it’s beneficial for me to have for my running. (More info at roadid.com.)
The first few lines are my name, emergency contact numbers and my medical allergies.
The last line they let you put whatever you want. On mine it says “I can and I will.”
The scared little girl who was afraid of water turned out to love swimming and the ocean.
The scared little girl who was afraid of her shadow turned out to love the sunrise and sunset.
The scared little girl who was afraid of dodge ball luckily wasn’t asked to play it again.
And the scared little girl who was afraid of BMX’ing at summer camp signed up for a 200-mile bike ride.
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