Monday, March 18, 2013

The Cheery Cheer-er

I will never run in a marathon. As soon as I say that I think Fuck you, I will so. But I know in my heart of hearts I won't. When one of my sisters' was little she used to say "I can't like it", and then she'd sadly shake her head. I feel like this sums up my reason for not wanting to do a few things, but especially for not running a marathon: I can't like it. I just can't.

I can, however, stand at the end of my street, by myself and scream and cheer and whistle for a full hour beginning at 7 am. I'm not even embarrassed (although I am a little perplexed by this later in the day when I think about it). I mean I full-on scream. I read the names on their card/numbers pinned so they know I am yelling for them specifically "Go Bob!" "You can do it Larry!""Lookin good Ginny!!!" Woooooooooo! Go! You got it. It actually makes me feel happy and excited and alive and connected: to scream like this; to act like an insane person. If I did this at any of my kid's games, I mean when I do this, they are mortified (they can't like it) so I try to keep it down, I try to control myself. If there's no exchange then I really am pathological.

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