October 5, 2007
I like mantras. You know, little themes and catch-phrases to help me move along in life.
When I was writing my thesis titled
Completely Fabricated, Yet Very Believable Piece of Bull-Schnit Revitalizing Rosebud: Examining the Suitability of the Rural Community Capacity Index as a Model for Community Development Assessment in Rosebud, Texas, my mantra was very simple: I CAN DO HARD THINGS. You know, like remembering the title.
My old running mantra used to be just as straight-forward. It was: SO WHAT.
When my legs would burn, I'd tell myself: SO WHAT.
When I'd doubt my ability to accomplish a goal, I'd think: SO WHAT.
When it hurt my lungs to go a bit faster, I'd say: SO WHAT.
When I'd begin to fantasize about stuffing myself into a trash barrel and rolling it down a steep hill and into a polluted lake, I'd repeat: SO WHAT.
And of course, every time I decided to end a workout by diving in front of a large man riding a small motor-scooter, I'd convince myself it was okay by saying: SO WHAT.
But this morning, something changed. In a moment of pure inspiration, I came up with a new running mantra. It came so naturally, almost like a gift from heaven. It's got a little more pizzazz, and it's pretty darn rhythmic if I do say so myself. It goes like this: STINKY-CRAPPY-CRAPPER-STINK.
It's got a ring to it, doesn't it? Maybe I'll have it printed it on the back of a shirt--you know, to inspire the other runners.