Blog Challenge. Day 9.

"The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes their way. Happiness lies for those who cry, those who hurt, those who have searched, and those who have tried; for only they can appreciate the importance of people who have touched their lives."

Day 9: Something you are proud of in the last few days.

I have this fault. It is called not liking to do things I am not good at.

This is why I avoid bowling like the plague.

This is why I stopped doing math after my sophomore year of high school (too bad I have to do it again now).

If I do not think I can do well at something, I tend to steer clear away from it. This way, no one knows I am bad at it. I can even tell myself maybe I would be good if I tried. Of course, I don't actually try.

I am realizing more and more how much I hate how I do this. Because it holds me back from taking chances, afraid that other people will show me up and be better than me.

So I stick to all the things I do well at.

But how easy is it to be proud of yourself over things you do well at with not even much effort?

I remember my first math test of this semester when I only missed one problem. That score did not come easy, mind you. I studied very hard for several hours. I remember wanting to cry as I stood in line to get my score. I was in the back of the line, watching as people in front of me got their tests back and screamed in alarm at scores they were not happy with. This did not calm my nerves. When I finally got to the front of the line, I remembered not even wanting to look, afraid that the red inked score on the paper would make the rest of my day terrible. I walked half way back to my seat before looking at my test at all. Then I gave in and looked. I cannot even describe my feelings when I realized my score was a 96%.

From my personal experiences, the things I have conquered which I struggle with give me a much more rewarding feeling than things that come naturally to me.

Last Saturday I ran a 5K. My first 5K ever. I have had many opportunities to run in 5Ks before, but I always found an excuse to not run. Why the excuses? Take a look at me and you will see I am not a distance runner. A sprinter or jumper, yes. Not a distance runner. However, I get labeled as a "runner". The sport of track and field has been a big part of my life. I went to state every year in high school and metaled. I ran on the team last year at Utah State University. Therefore, people suppose I should be good at "running". Well, there is a big difference between running 100 meters with obstacles to jump over and running three miles. Huge difference actually. I run three miles often when I work out, but it is not like I run it competitively. So as you can see, it would make sense why I avoid 5Ks.

My mom has really picked up on running in the past year. She will just go to the track and run for miles and miles. She now fits into my jeans. Yep, she is a hot mom. She has been really excited about running though, and always tries to rope me into running with her. She roped me in for this 5K, and I really wanted to be there to run it with her. So I set my own fears aside of being a bad distance runner, and I ran this 5K with my mom. My aunt Amy also ran, and she agreed to stick back with my mom and I. My mom has been trying to break three miles in 30 minutes for quite some time now, so my aunt and I were determined to push her. Which we did. My mom made her goal and beat the 30 minute mark by several minutes. I was proud of her. I was also proud of myself. It felt so good when I picked up my pace the last 100 yards to cross the finish line. I was tired, but it was worth it. I was happy. I felt like I had just done something very worthwhile with my Saturday morning. Maybe my time was not amazing, and maybe there were several people that beat me, but that didn't matter to me anymore. All that mattered at that point was that I stood up to something that is challenging for me. And I conquered it. Not only that, but I had people I love by my side while doing it. Now that is a great feeling. I got a t-shirt for participating, and I wore it the rest of the day. I was a proud, little distance runner.

Something I am proud of in the last few days: Doing things I know I am not going to win at, but still giving it my best shot.

It was my longest race and his first race EVER :). He is awesome.