I almost took a personal day on Monday so that I wouldn’t have to face the inevitable. It has not been a good day to be me.
First, while I was in my small eighth-grade team meeting, I had a steady stream of my fellow crew members dropping by to see how I was faring. It was like a trail of well-wishers at a funeral parlor. Just to add insult to injury, Steve dropped off the sweatshirt that every participant in the race gets. (Yeah, like I’m ever going to be able to wear that in public.)
Apparently, word of my misadventures had spread near and far. I have colleagues who didn’t even know that I was going to be participating in the Four Peaks Race slapping me on my back, giving me a smirk and a knowing head shake. Rumor has it there is even video footage circulating of me doubled over the edge of the boat. (Darn those ubiquitous i-phones!)
Even my headmaster had heard and couldn’t resist the opportunity to give me a hard time. (Just remember this people when my contract is up and you all want me to sign up for another two years. I may have the stomach of a newborn, but I have the memory of an elephant.)
Sunday at lunch, I tried to man-up and put a positive spin on this for my daughters’ sake. We have a book on the shelf at home called “Do Hard Things.” I told my girls that I had no regrets. It’s better to have tried and failed miserably, than not to have tried at all.
Now if only I could get myself to believe that.
I am so glad to be off that stinking boat.
-Jack
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