Go For the Bronze

Last year when I ran a marathon (ok half... ok I still haven't gotten over those glory days) I was listening to the post-marathon conversations at the park where we finished. One guy had been asked his time, but had to admit to this crowd of runners that he started passing out around mile 20 and had to be shuttled back to the park. Yes, he had run 7 miles farther than I had. Yes he had a bigger goal than I had... but he still seemed less accomplished.

This lesson has been echoed in my current job:...{text deleted... only available for a limited time... call it the early bird special}... I started to realize: success isn't measured by what you've achieved really... it's more about how low you've set your standards.

I've tried to apply this new life maxim to my dating life and have thus been spending more and more time at the West-end Wal-Mart... a little farther away but worth the low prices and high self-esteem. Let me explain. This particular Wal-Mart caters to those with fewer limbs, teeth, and coherent English phrases than most. In other words: I'm the West-End Walt-Mart goddess. I walk in with a full set of teeth and I'm getting stares and words of affection in all different languages. One guy told me I had nice shoes... to which I had to reply, "Thanks, you have a really nice tube in your neck," but didn't because I think leaving a compliment with nothing but a smile always leaves 'em wanting a little more.

So with these low expectations and even lower dreams, I know I'll be the most confident, athletic, successful girl of my (uncommonly low) dreams. And if you don't believe me, maybe you'll believe three very wise black men. Or two very stupid white girls who taught me that going for the gold gets you nothing but broken knee caps or a warrent for your arrest.