Red letter days

tack calendarWell, crap. Yesterday was National Grammar Day and I missed it. The one day a year I can officially pontificate on participles, advocate adverbs, and preach pronouns, and I missed it. (Note that I said officially.) It’s a good thing today is National Absinthe Day to make up for it.

Yeah, yeah, I know those “National Day of…” events are just goofy blurbs on some nebulous calendar, but they are kind of fun–and they provide a convenient excuse to celebrate something when you need a pick-me-up. Check ’em out and have a chuckle: https://www.daysoftheyear.com/.

Personally, I can’t wait for Punctuation Day on September 24, but Walk Around Things Day on April 4 and No Pants Day on May 1 will be a hoot, too. And thank goodness I remembered National Drink Wine Day on February 18. Missing that would have been like forgetting Christmas.

We all need a little levity now and then; find something fun and make a day of it!

[Okay, I can’t resist a shameless grammar plug. Why do we have to confine proper language usage to a single day? Grammar DayAfter all, words matter.]

 

Just for fun

My finishing time at the Warrior Dash this year increased quite a bit over last year. I added almost FIVE minutes per mile. Normally, that kind of performance decline would reduce me to a quivering mess; in fact, it’s pretty amazing that I’m even admitting to it here.

Today, I don’t care.

Why not? I could justify it by saying the course was harder (it was) and it had more mud obstacles that were difficult to navigate (it did) and that everyone posted slower times (they did), but those aren’t the real reasons.

I don’t care because it was FUN. As much as I enjoyed the muddy obstacle race last year, this year’s event stole my heart. Last year, I took on the Warrior Dash–billed by promoters as “the craziest frickin’ day of your life”–to prove I could. I tackled all kinds of tasks that would normally make my sometimes-prissy self balk, if not turn away in self-righteous disgust. When I crawled out of the mud pit to cross the finish line, all I could think was, I DID it!

My brother and I both agree that this year’s race felt completely different. We had already proved that we COULD do it; this time we actually WANTED to do it. When the starting horn blew fire to launch my 11:00 wave, I hit the woods grinning. I leapt roots and ruts, took the direct route through the stream instead of pussyfooting from rock to rock, embraced the mud, and army-crawled through trenches on the forest floor. I ran hard and felt great all the way through. I loved it. Last year’s race felt like an accomplishment. This year’s race was an out-and-out blast.

I’m pretty sure that’s one of the benefits of expanding your comfort zone. Once you master a task or conquer a fear, it leaves you free to enjoy the experience the next time. You can do it just for fun.