What would you do if you knew you couldn't fail?
That right there is a great conversation starter. It’s not an ultra-deep question, but boy is it thought provoking.
When I asked this to Jared, he was walking out of our bathroom, and he stopped on his heel. He thought it was an excellent question, and he had an instant answer.
Jared would throw down some huge bets in Vegas. He says he’d bet the house, take cash advances on all of our credit cards, bet the truck, the kids, the dogs. He’d bet it all and win big.
I like it. Well done, Jared! (but please don’t actually do that)
Me? I would start The National Geographic Boob Hall of Fame, and it would be housed online, AND in my elementary school library.
That is definitely what I’d do. I can’t believe it doesn’t already exist.
Jared felt a little deflated that my idea was funny and his wasn’t. I get it. I’m sure it’s not easy to be married to someone who’s always hilarious, but I married him for his skiing ability, not his wit. He knows that. I don’t expect him to be me.
Actually, I’m not very funny in person. In real life, I tell light little laughing jokes and that’s it. But Jared loves to think that I think I’m hilarious. Got that? I let him think that I think I’m hilarious, because him thinking I think I’m funny gives him a feeling of satisfaction. Got that?
Marriage I tell ya, it’s a dance.
Jared and I are actually really different in lots of ways, especially our hobbies. He likes to fly fish and bird hunt, and I like to run and bike. He says that he likes to have hobbies that are enjoyable, and I like to have hobbies that hurt.
He’s not wrong.
Once upon a time, a million years ago, when we were living in Texas, my monthly copy of Runner’s World Magazine came in the mail. Jared brought it into our apartment, slapped it down on the table, looked me bang in the eye, and proclaimed: I will NEVER understand this. No one needs to talk ME into doing MY hobbies.
And there, on that fugly old kitchen table was my magazine with a headline that said something like:
15 Ways to Trick Yourself into Heading Out for a Run
Or maybe it was, Ten Tips to Tolerate Your Run
Either way, I was paying for advice on how to try to not hate my number one hobby, while Jared was dreaming about catching, kissing, and releasing a spotted trout.
The man had a point. Still does. Different strokes for different folks, just like my Grandma used to say. (I actually don’t know if she ever said that)
So I guess, maybe the best answer to the question — What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail? — might be something to do with finding the thing that makes you tick.
Since copyright laws exist, therefore making The National Geographic Boob Hall of Fame an infringement lawsuit waiting to happen, what doable thing would I do if I knew I couldn’t fail?
Either the Tour Divide Bike Race, or buy a and rehab an old Victorian house. Jared would probably drive to Labrador Canada and fish.
But you know? I’m also at this middle aged point in life, where I don’t expect, or need, or even want those things to happen anymore. Things are okay for me today, just as they are.
If you like fun music, listen to this song:
Those band people are kind of right. If I’ve got air in my lungs and blood in my body, I’m okay.
Now that the collective shock is wearing down from the shooting in Lewiston on October 25th, I’m feeling like it’s an enormous privilege just to be alive. Let’s be real, some moments I’m terrified to be alive, and I feel so sad I can hardly breath, but these feelings are starting to coexist with gratitude for life. I also wish we could turn back time and save every person who was hurt or died that day, but we can’t. Feelings are hard, so I march forth, trying to have appreciation for this very moment.
So really, what would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail? Maybe it’s time to start working on it. Or maybe it’s time to just have fun imagining it. Or maybe you’d like to do a mini version of it. Or read about it. Or just think about the question. You can do it your way.
We’re all different, and Thank God for that. Some like running, some like to hate running, and some like to fish — but what is it that we all have in common? What do we share? It’s a love and appreciation for the boobs in National Geographic. Let’s work harder to remember that.
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