Anyone who’s ever met me knows I’m not a
type-A personality. I think people who
know my father and me wonder how we can be related. The last time I got up before 5 a.m. to do
something fitness-related was to cheer my best friend on at the Marine Corps
Marathon. The last time my father got up
at 5 a.m. to do something fitness-related was this morning. (It doesn’t matter what the time differential
is between when I wrote this and when I published this—believe me, he was
awake.)
I’m a
high-functioning type-B and that’s always been fine with me. I don’t need
to be in charge of every group; I just need someone to make a decision. People who can’t make decisions drive me
crazy. This is possibly a side effect of
living in the South where people tend to polite each other to death: “Where do
you want to eat?” “I don’t care.” “Well, I’m not picky; what do you like?”
“Anywhere you like is good with me.”
Holy crap—someone pick somewhere or it’ll be dinnertime soon. I have literally flipped a coin on multiple
occasions to expedite this process.
To
reiterate, I’m not type-A and I’m not competitive (unless it comes to
trash-talking other SEC schools during football season). And then two deadly things happened. I started working at a law firm and then got
a Fitbit. These aren’t new occurrences,
nor are they bad things on their own.
I’ve just realized that the Universe has been using these two things to
conspire against me and I am helpless to stop it.
The
lawyers I work with are relentlessly type-A and competitive. It’s not a bad thing. At this type of law firm, you have to have
some serious drive and internal motivation to make a success of yourself. I
didn’t realize how much this had rubbed off on me until one of the partners and
a senior associate (who are working on their own personal fitness goals)
decided to create a firm-wide stair-climbing challenge.
The
rules are simple: Nine floors, 248 steps, two points for going from the lobby
to the ninth floor, one point for going down the same distance. Winners announced every two weeks. Prize:
bragging rights and the picker of food and drink for an office happy hour.
As some
of you remember, the fires of competition have been smoldering since I got my
Fitbit at the end of January. Each
milestone and badge thrills me more than I thought possible. I achieved my personal best of over 15,000
steps in a single day on Valentine’s Day, as I wandered through the moors,
bemoaning my imminent spinster-hood. (Or
catered a 90-person cocktail party, same difference.) And it’s just gotten worse ever since.
I
reached an all-time high/low on Monday aka Day 1 of the BCNT Stair
Challenge. At least for the day, I blew
my competition out of the water with nine points. And then, at 34 total flights of stairs, I
just had to try for my 50-flight Fitbit badge.
So after 34 flights, after boot camp, I come home to my apartment and
run another 15 flights of stairs. I’d
met my 10,000 step minimum for the day but I realized how close I was to my
five-mile goal, and that led to running across my apartment for about
seven-tenths of a mile while on the phone.
I
thought I was done. I’d showered, I was
watching Dancing with the Stars,
having phone time with the bestie, and managed to get to 10:30 which seemed
like a good bed time for the day. Then I
made the mistake of checking the Fitbit one last time. 11,518.
Well, that’s not a round number of any kind. Sooooo close to 12,000. I could get there…
I’m
almost embarrassed (can you embarrass the shameless?) to admit I delayed
bedtime for another 15 minutes just so I could get to 12,000 and attempt to
beat anybody in my Fitbit circle.
As of
press time, I’m in the lead for the stair challenge. I’m also afraid to sit for any extended
period of time as I’m just waiting for delayed onset muscle soreness to set in
and lock me in place like the Tinman.
And it’s only going to get worse.
I fear for my sanity. But I’ll
have the best lower half of any resident at the asylum.
In other healthy challenges that may kill me, I am
officially entered in the 2014 Peachtree Road Race. I’ve run it in high school, but I think this
is the first time I’ve actually cared about finishing it. I entered the lottery on whim the Sunday it
opened. I was under-caffeinated and didn’t
think I had any actually shot of getting a number. Cut to this morning: “Dear Rachel Boyd, Congratulations! Your entry was selected for the 2014 AJC Peachtree Road
Race on July 4, 2014.” Training hilarity
will ensue.
I’m
having a moment. I know I’m covered in
sarcasm and self-deprecating humor, but I’m borderline giddy. I’m nervous, but more excited than I’ve been
in a while. I think I’m just fully
recognizing the amount of potential my life holds in the few months. I don’t mind the uncertainty and I feel like
a kid on a high dive, working up the nerve to take the leap, getting ready to
enjoy the feeling of flying, huge splash as I land, huge grin.