Quittin'

18 September, 13

I have a lot of quit in me. Some of it originates from the fact that I was always small for my age and young for my grade. A defining moment for me was in the 3rd grade, when I tried out for midget football. I had never played organized football, but in Bob Gardner's front yard, I was a certified gridiron warrior. Football with pads would be a piece of cake.

At tryouts, all the coaches moved us from station to station--offense to defense. Blocking, tackling, running, catching. I quickly discovered some deficiencies in my game. I sucked at football. For line drills, I was stuck in front of a monster-huge kid with a nasty grimace and 5" long fangs. He looked into my soul and told me what he was going to do with me when the ball got snapped. I was mortified. Even down South, "Hut!" is a one syllable word, but I managed to dig a hole and jump in it before the QB got past H. Hulk landed on me and I screamed like a girl. Three or four more snaps with the same result convinced me that I should go sit beside my daddy. We sat together in awkward silence. Neither of us knew what to do. Finally I said we should go home. That was the end of my stellar football career. I quit. Looking back, I know that the kid on the other side of the ball was not a pro wrestler or freak of nature. He was just fat and his mama didn't love him. If we lined up today, I would be the one talking smack, which is a big problem for me. My daddy said, "Boy, you have a linebacker mind with a kicker body." Not a good combination.

I quit Boy Scouts at the rank of Life, two merit badges and a project away from Eagle. All my friends are Eagle Scouts. Jerks.

I have completed half a dozen marathons and triathlons. My longest was the White Lake Half Ironman. It involves a 1 mile swim, 60 mile bike ride and 13 mile run. It took me 6 hours to complete. I was the last man out of the water. During my training, I came to realize that I have a phobia about putting my face in the water when I start getting short of breath. It takes me 1 hour to swim a mile. White Lake is supposedly a flat bicycle course, but my route was uphill ALL THE WAY. My calf muscle ripped halfway through the run. I quit the entire race. The only reason I finished was because I am cheap. I paid $84 for that stinking event, and I was gonna finish, dammit! I just knew they wouldn't give me my money back. I was so mad, I could have chewed metal and spit nails. After the race, I walked straight to the freebies tent and demanded my T-shirt. Luckily for them, they complied.

Why is it so easy to quit when things are hard? Why don't we all scale Mount Everest? Maybe we're all quitters. Today my girls are in school for the first day. I am bound up. Will they be OK? Will I need to go bail them out? Is some Spanish boy looking at my daughter?

Katherine and I walked to school together. When we got there, a whole slew of kids was milling about and talking. I asked her if she knew anybody, and she had that deer in headlights look. Then I heard something to my right. "Kath-ween" It was like seeing an oasis in the desert. Five girls came up and took Katherine by the arms in the embrace of friendship. They escorted her off to class like she was a rock star. She didn't even say goodbye as she was swept away. I guess I'll quit another day...