Sometimes we criticize in others what we dislike about ourselves. My father has a disturbingly irritating sense of humor. I have far too many memories of forcing out a laugh at restaurants just so waitresses knew that he was joking when he did something embarrassing, like asking if the restaurant would accept his Mobil gas credit card. It wasn't until I finally became a father myself that I realized that I am my father. We look the same. We have similar mannarisms. And we have the same obnoxious sense of humor, though I am much funnier. We are both persistently annoying and we both intentionally push buttons. Alas, my youngest daughter seems to have inherited the gene. It's living proof of God's sense of humor.
Let me reference my recent post: "That Guy." "That Guy" is the title reserved for the person I inevitably see doing something stupid under particularly difficult conditions. For instance, "That Guy" goes running when it's 8 degree, wearing shorts. When I see "That Guy," I shake my head and roll my eyes. After posting "That Guy," my loving sister posted a response on Facebook, stating, simply, "I think you are that guy." To her sarcasm I replied, characteristically, "You only wish you were more like me."
I went on a 6-mile run early Friday morning. I hit the road at 5:00 which, for some people, seems crazy enough. What made Friday's run particularly memorable, however, was not the hour. 5:00AM has become a pretty standard time for my workouts these days. Instead, it was the weather that stood out. The temperature was barely in the double digits and the windchill was hovering near zero, if not dipping somewhere below. In the middle of January, Rochester, New York was experiencing, at least 6 weeks late, its first real taste of winter. By the end of the day, the storm dumped about 6 inches of snow on our city which, for western New York, was a modest amount of snow. But that snow came amidst blizzard conditions. Running in an early morning gentle snowfall is peaceful and quiet. Being pelted by snow blowing in my eyes at 40+ MPH was masochistic. I fought to keep my body moving against the overpowering winds that fought my every stride. But worse, my face burned from power at which the weather whipped my cheeks. I wore glasses to protect my eyes, but before long they fogged up and froze. Honestly, I probably would have been able to see better if I kept them on. I imagine I looked like a complete fool as I ran with one eye closed and a hand shielding the other.
I didn't stick to the modest pace that Coach Dan scheduled for the morning's run. I rushed to get through my workout, telling myself all along the way that the run was building character and tenacity that would help get me to the finish line in Madison next fall.
I got home, peeled off my frozen layers, stuck my head in the microwave to melt the snow from eyelashes and thawed my eyeballs over a steaming tea kettle. I jumped in the shower and the warm water felt 30 degrees warmer against my frozen flesh. It took a good 20 minutes before my blurred vision gave way to clarity, at which point it suddenly occurred to me...I am "That Guy."
I hate it when my sister's commentary about me is right! But I still insist that she wants to be more like me...
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