Like a small child overfilled with sugary snacks, jumping around like a monkey in a zoo, I find myself swinging around wanting to share and write all my recent exciting stories and information.There is the Girls Trip in Las Vegas of Sheer and Utter Ridiculousness to record, excitement for Jason's return to Canada from Afghanistan and all the pulsating adrenaline around the upcoming triathlon and the training that goes with it. That will come, that will wait. Right now I am scooping my jaw of the floor and in my recovery of the scolding I received from an evaluation.
I have always hated being scolded.
For as long as I can remember the tiny things like don't pinch your sister or take her barbie, to maybe you shouldnt be drinking moosehead lager and hiding the bottles in your room to U of A Phys Ed scowling at our Pub Crawl promotions, getting "in trouble" has always made me feel bad. Not like I am Bad Girl Bad, or Bad Girls Have More Fun Bad, but I dislike the feeling of knowing someone is scowling and that is somehow related to my actions or words.
When I pulled up my latest round of evaluations from work and my Death Valley trips I had this scolding to read.
'Holly is too cheerful. Her positivity isn't always appreciated..... she is too much of a cheerleader..... She needs to stop cheer-leading...it can be too much positivity, too much happiness.'
And here I was thinking Positivity was simply linked to the happiness inside my heart, that people enjoyed being cheered along during a particularly hard bike ride. Or maybe I will just be less likely to respond when people ask me if, "I can make it to the hotel?"
(Yes! Of Course! You're almost there! You've done great! 20 miles done, 2 to Go! 2 miles is nothing! Let me refill your water and you head out!)
"No, you better get in the sag wagon loser, because the hotel is two miles away and I am telling you right now there is no way you're going to make it. My 80 year old Grandma could bike twice as fast as you. Get in the damn van."
I live in Calgary where I own a small business, instruct fitness classes and call myself an endurance athlete. I am the proud owner of four bikes, an expensive wine education, and a strange fascination with the colour orange. I have a long-time love of football, baking, and coffee. I put my minor in creative writing to use occasionally both here and in other publications. I live with my tall, handsome and often-hungry professional triathlete husband.