Two Thumbs Up...

As I went through the nightmarish hallways of America's public schools, I quickly learned that different was not only bad, but would in short order get you hurt. For the most part this deterred me little, and I continued to fly my freak flag for all it was worth and for all to see. But the older I got, the more I realized some of the benefits of looking and talking like everyone else. For instance, conformity pays better than nonconformity. People with the cute and cuddly phrase "Fuck you!" tattooed on their foreheads may find that minimum wage isn't easy to come by. On the other hand those who can competently swing a golf club while wearing business casual clothing are occasionally in positions of power with good pay. I would argue that among the top ten percent of wage earners in the US almost none of them have "Fuck you!" tattooed on their foreheads.

With the lessons of conformity beaten into me (literally), I've been afraid to look up from the path as I make my way around the park dragging my tire. Fearing I might see the confused face of Gina Schmitt from 8th grade glaring at me for thinking tires were in fashion, I keep my gaze fixed on the pavement. Or what if a 12-year-old Jimmy Klutz was standing just off the trail waiting to pound my face to a bloody pulp for disgusting him with my pathetic attempt to get into shape. Suffice it to say: I've been ashamed of my tire-dragging. Ashamed of being different from everyone else jogging along the same track in their corporately branded exercise attire. But as was the case in Jr. High, I have been persevering, swallowing my pride, and dragging my filthy dirty tire. Brandishing my mark of Cain for all to witness.



Today as I started my tire-towing torrent, I caught sight of a couple of women who looked to be cutting across my path. Looking up quickly to gage my speed against theirs to ensure their insults would be out of earshot, one of the women made eye contact with me, smiled and gave me a thumbs up. The cool thing, she looked like she would have been popular in school to boot. I smiled in response and gave a slight backward jerk of my head as though to say, "Sup."

As I passed the duck pond a little later, I caught sight of a guy walking. He wasn't racing, he wasn't sauntering, he was keeping a nice even pace. I decided I wasn't going to lose sight of him for the remainder of my tow. It wasn't easy. At one point I simply couldn't do it any longer. I was breathing so hard drool began to run from my chin. How's that for looking like a geek? I paused, wiped the spittle from my chin, took a few deep breaths and went back to it making up the lost time on a downhill section of the path. I never lost sight of the guy. At the end I went to put the tire in my car and do a tire-free lap. To my embarrassment the guy went to the parking lot too. He stopped to wait on me. I was a little scared pulling up even with him. "Now that's impressive!", he said. "Are you training for something?"

I was blown away! And as I wiped the slobber from my chin, I babbled some nonsense about climbing a big mountain in Alaska. He complimented my pace at which point I said I was just trying to keep up with him. We both said our good byes and I loaded the tire into the back of the Honda.