For me, growing up has been a slow process.
This is mainly because there are a lot of things about adult life that have not come naturally, but also because, to be completely honest, there are a lot of things about being an adult that I straight up don’t like:
I don’t like being responsible for life things that absolutely, without question, have to be done at a certain times…things like filing taxes and renewing car registrations and paying rent on time.
I don’t like having to schedule (and remember) my own doctor appointments.
I don’t like grocery shopping.
I don’t like being expected to know things like when to/ how much to tip somebody
(the person how drives your car around when you pick it up from the repair shop? Anybody? Anybody?)
I miss it being socially acceptable to immaturely whine openly about things that just don’t seem fair.
But, most importantly, I’m not awesome at making responsible, thought through decisions.
So, yes, growing up has been a struggle and I have fought it at most every turn.
Due to this ongoing 13-ish year struggle, I took great pride recently in declaring myself officially, unequivocally, undeniably, at age 34 (but a YOUNG 34) – a grownup.
How did I know? How could I be sure? It wasn’t so much one big reason, as lots of little ones. I have now been grocery shopping on a weekly basis for several years and I just took my car for its yearly Virginia State Safety Inspection (only 1 week late – a new record). I made it to a string of doctor’s appointments (all on time, thank you very much, and one early) and I have developed a fairly clear grasp on tipping (with the exception of the aforementioned, very specific, situation).
I still whine, but it’s under the guise of blogging…which is totally different and doesn’t involve tantrums…usually.
Yes, finally a grownup – just like my parents have always been, like my elementary school teachers were, and like my fellow 34 year olds have been for the past 10 years or so: responsible, omnipresent, all knowing, fully prepared for anything thrown my way, a firm handle on what to say or do in any situation, and, most importantly, always (ALWAYS) capable of making good decisions.
My declaration of adulthood came on a Thursday.
So, I was an adult all day Friday….
then Saturday rolled around.
I’m training for an Iron Man – a decision made with a friend on a bit of a whim (a very expensive, not 100% thought through, summer of 2013 freetime-destroying, weekend-dread-causing, fully non-refundable whim). The decision was made last Summer when the event was still an entire year away and I imagined only crossing the finish line in glory (and not so much all of the work involved in getting to the point where I could survive the 13+ hours it will take me to get to that same finish line).
So, my Saturdays and Sundays have been spent either running or biking long distances. On this particular Saturday (the Saturday after I had declared myself a grownup) I had a morning 5K followed by a 50 mile bike ride….totally do-able…if you are a responsible adult who makes good decisions.
I packed everything in my car the night before – so forward-thinking and responsible!
(yeah, well, that’s where that ends)
A responsible adult would be prepared: they would have the proper nutrition prepared and with them – a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a Powerbar or two, Gatorade, Gu Chomps, and, obviously, water….lots and lots of water….a few gallons of water, ideally. Yes, that’s what a responsible adult would do.
A responsible adult, upon realizing they had forgotten their sunglasses in the car after biking just ¼ mile, would have gone back to the car to get said sunglasses, because ¼ of a mile isn’t really that far for something that will be extremely important over the course of the remaining 50 miles on an extremely bright day.
A responsible adult would have completely drenched themselves in sunscreen…paying particularly close attention to their back and upper legs, as those are the areas most exposed to the sun on a bike ride.
A responsible adult would stick to the plan and do 50 miles…50 miles exactly…as planned.
They would not think at the intended turn-around point at mile 25:
“Well, I feel really good and could definitely do 5 more miles this direction.
If I do 5 more miles this direction then it will take my total up to 60 miles.
60 miles is so much better than 50...and it’s only 5 more miles!”
(I realize this does not make any sense mathematically - let’s just chalk it up to lack of nutrition and extreme heat.)
A responsible adult definitely would not follow that same faulty logic (and faulty math) once they got to mile 30.
Anyone with any knowledge of dehydration can see where this is going:
The hunger pangs started around mile 40.
The dehydration headache followed at mile 45, aided by the bright sunlight and lack of sunglasses.
At mile 50 the headache turned to nausea.
The remaining 20 miles back to the car were LONG…
Oh and mile 65 is right about when a passing biker noted that my back was “super red”.
Awesome.
When I finally got to the car, I downed the big bottle of the warm (borderline hot) red Gatorade that has been sitting in the steamy car for 5 hours, in a last ditch attempt to re-hydrate.
After loading the bike in my car, I plopped my sweaty self in the driver’s seat and immediately felt the more-sandpaperish-than-previously-noticed upholstry on my extremely sore back.
4 minutes later, driving down I-66 (a busy road with very little space to pull over safely), I started to feel unbelievably, wretchedly bad.
1 minute later, still on I-66, that dreaded, unquestionable urge hit me and I started scanning the front seat for anything close to a plastic bag.
½ minute later I was holding, in my lap, while driving, a very full bag of (excuse me for this) most of the red Gatorade I had chugged not even 10 minutes prior.
Oh, and the bag had a little hole in it and was very slowly leaking the contents on my lap...and in the seat.
2 (extremely long) minutes later, I sat in a Walgreens parking lot, having dumped the red liquid from the plastic bag on the steamy black concrete, feeling much, much better, but wondering to myself,
“Faith, when are you going to learn to make good decisions?”
And also:
“Faith, when are you going to really grow up?”
And also:
“Faith, how in the heck do you get Gatorade red out of this gray upholstery and the smell of red gatorade out of the car?”
Part of growing up is learning from mistakes.
So, from this mistake-laden Saturday, this is what I learned:
-Eat, drink and apply sunscreen generously…lessons I have supposedly learned several times before.
-An extra 5 miles in one direction, means an extra 10 miles total.
-Regular carpet cleaner does, surprisingly, take red Gatorade stain (and fruit punch smell) out of car upholstery.
And, most importantly:
-Adulthood cannot be declared – it’s an ongoing process.
This is mainly because there are a lot of things about adult life that have not come naturally, but also because, to be completely honest, there are a lot of things about being an adult that I straight up don’t like:
I don’t like being responsible for life things that absolutely, without question, have to be done at a certain times…things like filing taxes and renewing car registrations and paying rent on time.
I don’t like having to schedule (and remember) my own doctor appointments.
I don’t like grocery shopping.
I don’t like being expected to know things like when to/ how much to tip somebody
(the person how drives your car around when you pick it up from the repair shop? Anybody? Anybody?)
I miss it being socially acceptable to immaturely whine openly about things that just don’t seem fair.
But, most importantly, I’m not awesome at making responsible, thought through decisions.
So, yes, growing up has been a struggle and I have fought it at most every turn.
Due to this ongoing 13-ish year struggle, I took great pride recently in declaring myself officially, unequivocally, undeniably, at age 34 (but a YOUNG 34) – a grownup.
How did I know? How could I be sure? It wasn’t so much one big reason, as lots of little ones. I have now been grocery shopping on a weekly basis for several years and I just took my car for its yearly Virginia State Safety Inspection (only 1 week late – a new record). I made it to a string of doctor’s appointments (all on time, thank you very much, and one early) and I have developed a fairly clear grasp on tipping (with the exception of the aforementioned, very specific, situation).
I still whine, but it’s under the guise of blogging…which is totally different and doesn’t involve tantrums…usually.
Yes, finally a grownup – just like my parents have always been, like my elementary school teachers were, and like my fellow 34 year olds have been for the past 10 years or so: responsible, omnipresent, all knowing, fully prepared for anything thrown my way, a firm handle on what to say or do in any situation, and, most importantly, always (ALWAYS) capable of making good decisions.
My declaration of adulthood came on a Thursday.
So, I was an adult all day Friday….
then Saturday rolled around.
I’m training for an Iron Man – a decision made with a friend on a bit of a whim (a very expensive, not 100% thought through, summer of 2013 freetime-destroying, weekend-dread-causing, fully non-refundable whim). The decision was made last Summer when the event was still an entire year away and I imagined only crossing the finish line in glory (and not so much all of the work involved in getting to the point where I could survive the 13+ hours it will take me to get to that same finish line).
So, my Saturdays and Sundays have been spent either running or biking long distances. On this particular Saturday (the Saturday after I had declared myself a grownup) I had a morning 5K followed by a 50 mile bike ride….totally do-able…if you are a responsible adult who makes good decisions.
I packed everything in my car the night before – so forward-thinking and responsible!
(yeah, well, that’s where that ends)
A responsible adult would be prepared: they would have the proper nutrition prepared and with them – a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a Powerbar or two, Gatorade, Gu Chomps, and, obviously, water….lots and lots of water….a few gallons of water, ideally. Yes, that’s what a responsible adult would do.
A responsible adult, upon realizing they had forgotten their sunglasses in the car after biking just ¼ mile, would have gone back to the car to get said sunglasses, because ¼ of a mile isn’t really that far for something that will be extremely important over the course of the remaining 50 miles on an extremely bright day.
A responsible adult would have completely drenched themselves in sunscreen…paying particularly close attention to their back and upper legs, as those are the areas most exposed to the sun on a bike ride.
A responsible adult would stick to the plan and do 50 miles…50 miles exactly…as planned.
They would not think at the intended turn-around point at mile 25:
“Well, I feel really good and could definitely do 5 more miles this direction.
If I do 5 more miles this direction then it will take my total up to 60 miles.
60 miles is so much better than 50...and it’s only 5 more miles!”
(I realize this does not make any sense mathematically - let’s just chalk it up to lack of nutrition and extreme heat.)
A responsible adult definitely would not follow that same faulty logic (and faulty math) once they got to mile 30.
Anyone with any knowledge of dehydration can see where this is going:
The hunger pangs started around mile 40.
The dehydration headache followed at mile 45, aided by the bright sunlight and lack of sunglasses.
At mile 50 the headache turned to nausea.
The remaining 20 miles back to the car were LONG…
Oh and mile 65 is right about when a passing biker noted that my back was “super red”.
Awesome.
When I finally got to the car, I downed the big bottle of the warm (borderline hot) red Gatorade that has been sitting in the steamy car for 5 hours, in a last ditch attempt to re-hydrate.
After loading the bike in my car, I plopped my sweaty self in the driver’s seat and immediately felt the more-sandpaperish-than-previously-noticed upholstry on my extremely sore back.
4 minutes later, driving down I-66 (a busy road with very little space to pull over safely), I started to feel unbelievably, wretchedly bad.
1 minute later, still on I-66, that dreaded, unquestionable urge hit me and I started scanning the front seat for anything close to a plastic bag.
½ minute later I was holding, in my lap, while driving, a very full bag of (excuse me for this) most of the red Gatorade I had chugged not even 10 minutes prior.
Oh, and the bag had a little hole in it and was very slowly leaking the contents on my lap...and in the seat.
2 (extremely long) minutes later, I sat in a Walgreens parking lot, having dumped the red liquid from the plastic bag on the steamy black concrete, feeling much, much better, but wondering to myself,
“Faith, when are you going to learn to make good decisions?”
And also:
“Faith, when are you going to really grow up?”
And also:
“Faith, how in the heck do you get Gatorade red out of this gray upholstery and the smell of red gatorade out of the car?”
Part of growing up is learning from mistakes.
So, from this mistake-laden Saturday, this is what I learned:
-Eat, drink and apply sunscreen generously…lessons I have supposedly learned several times before.
-An extra 5 miles in one direction, means an extra 10 miles total.
-Regular carpet cleaner does, surprisingly, take red Gatorade stain (and fruit punch smell) out of car upholstery.
And, most importantly:
-Adulthood cannot be declared – it’s an ongoing process.
Comments
Post a Comment