I’ve always seemed to have a tough time finishing in my life. It took me a couple times to get through kindergarten (stupid home address and me not knowing it), I never seemed to be able to dial the last number to my crushes home phone line (where was texting when I needed a comfort blanket of non-contact human communication), fifth year senior in undergrad, just dropped out of graduate school, woke up in a psych ward two weeks before my move to San Jose, and the list can go on and on. I’ve come to realize though that it’s out of my control, I really don’t have much say in the matter.
What reminded me of this is a picture hanging up in my high school as you walk in the doors (don’t act like you’re not impressed).
I zoomed in on myself to give you the full visual effect of why I was a virgin until I was 19. In any manner this picture was of a state track championship team in which I did nothing to help earn (literally nothing). I was in less control of winning that trophy than the person who actually made the trophy. Now on the contrary my senior year in track I actually did have a lot of control, or so I thought.
I was a hurdler and coming into the State meet had won both my regionals in the 300 intermediate hurdles and the 110 high hurdles. I was a favorite in the 110’s and considered competitive in the 300’s for the titles. 16 guys make it to state from the regionals and the prelims/qualifiers the day before State get the field down to 8 (just enough for the 8 lanes on the track, very clever OHSAA).
At this point in my life I had decided to essentially walk-on a DIII soccer team in the fall for college and hadn’t thought about track as a future. Since I was walking on a DIII school you get the gist that I wasn’t really recruited, so much so that most would say not even a little bit. Well the folks from Kansas had seen my academics and began lightly recruiting me at the State meet to run there if I could perform well during the weekend. All I had to do was finish this and I’d be set.
The 110’s qualifier was first and I was out and running well. Leading the race until the last few hurdles when I turned my ankle to the outside and watched 4 guys wiz by me for the only four spots in the final the next day. Once again I couldn’t finish (and I didn’t take it well) but I luckily had the 300’s the next day to (I qualified for those somehow despite my pure devastation from the 110’s)make it right. And damn it if I wasn’t making it right. Coming down to the final 100 meters and 3 hurdles left I was in second place closing in on the leader. Then I heard the worst sound I’ve ever heard in sports; 10,000 people in unison going:
Yep that was for me. I clipped the 8th out of 10 hurdles and fell (also the first time I fell in the 300’s in four years). I was able to look up in time to see the entire field cross over the final two hurdles and through the finish line (bye bye Kansas) while I was on all fours in the middle of the track. I just couldn’t finish again, like I never was supposed to or something.
I have trouble with the notion that I’m not in control of what happens in my life. I feel as though I should be able to control what path my life will take when in fact it’s anything but that. No matter how much I belive I can control, it’s really not up to me. It never was. I mean if I would have finished anything I’ve listed above I sure as shit wouldn’t be here today. An while at times this BMD really seems like a pain in the ass because of this, I need to realize it’s really not up to me. I’m not in control and whether I know how to or not (more likely not) I’m going to have to finish this thing, I don’t have a choice.
Since many of my manic experiences involve music I’ve decided to add random music videos to the blog for my enjoyment and your inconvenience. Enjoy!