Who has the button?

Note to self: It all boils down to perspective.

Second grade field day. Shoe kick, water balloon toss, three-legged race. It was my first field day at my new school--my old school didn't have a field day, well, we had a "day at the park" which was where I had one of my most embarrassing moments in life, but that's another story.

One of the field day events was a race that had kids run down the field to a plastic bag filled with crazy old man clothes. I remember a tie, vest, sport coat, business socks, and big dress shoes. When my "heat" was up, competitive little me ran my little heart out down the field, but I had quite a time getting dressed, such a time that I ended up dead last. I have always hated losing. Hated it. And any loss is followed by me beating myself up for what I could-have-should-have done. But on that day, during that race, even though I was very last, very last by a long shot, I won a prize. One of the teachers running that station gave me a "You're looking at a winner!" button reserved for the person she thought was the best sport during the day. I remember she gave it to me because I was laughing so hard trying to run back in the over-sized shoes, pants, shirt, etc. and that instead of being upset that I was in last place, I had a huge grin on my face.

I remember that moment very clearly, but I can't remember why I wasn't beating myself up for coming in last. I'd like to think that it was because the situation was so ridiculous, how could anyone expect to be the "best" at running around in dad's old size 12 dress shoes? All you can do is laugh.

After last weekend's mini-series which ended in me promptly beating myself up, I had a fantastic talk with Coach A and it really got me thinking. Something that stuck with me from our little chat was my propensity toward the defeatist, beat yourself-up, self-critical view of things. And that maybe, just maybe it would be a good experiment for me to try and pick out the the positive wins in each situation.

And what does this have to do with elementary school field days? Well, maybe there are certain events that I am good at--like laying subway tile--and then maybe there are those events I'm not the "best" at, the ones that are like running around in dad's old clothes, say for instance going up to a stranger eating his dinner with a friend and chatting him up. Who is good at that? And instead of beating myself up for not talking to him, maybe I should be going after that elusive button, and just keep smiling and laughing, take the small victories, and stay in the race.

I'm going to try this new perspective on for size, because dear Internets, you're looking at a winner!