0
0
Okay, it’s a forgone conclusion that a lot of the stuff I write is usually wrapped up in a metaphor which makes a bold and clever, yet poignant statements about a certain issue.
If you haven’t had that epiphany yet, I consider it mixed blessings. Go read The Tufted Titmouse again with that thought in mind and see if you can find the metaphor beneath all of the boob references.
Now that I’ve mentioned the issue about my use of metaphors, let’s talk about hurdles. We all have hurdles in our lives. I know this because of a speech that Steve Martin made in a movie once about obstacles to overcome. In that speech, he listed off a number of things we have to get past in our lives in order to carry on. At that point in the movie, the primary obstacle he and his two comrades along with the entire town of Santa Poco had was named El Guapo.
On a side note, completely unrelated to anything else you read in this blog today, understand that I’m listening to Slash – Made In Stoke 24/7/11 (Disc 2) while I type up this dispatch. Juniorette gave it to me for Christmas this last year and it rocks.
Back to the hurdles.
We all have hurdles in our lives, but I don’t want to talk about those. So let’s put the metaphorical hurdles aside and talk about real life hurdles. You know, the track and field obstacles they put on the course to make your dash just that much harder.
I have no love for the things, and all things being equal I’m pretty sure they have no love for me either. I know this based on seven track and field days I “participated” in during my formative years in elementary school. Understand that this was back in the 70’s when feelings were not a concern. I was the short pudgy kid who had no real justification for participating in your traditional track and field events. I knew this. The track and field events knew this. The teachers who signed me up for the various events probably knew this, yet chose to sign me up in an exercise my self esteem.
*Scoffs*
Anyway it seems that one year, I was signed up the hurdles. Did I mention I was short? Did I ever mention that I am short?
Yeah, well. My own mental hurdles which I don’t need to bore you with. Besides, that’s a metaphor which has been taken out of the picture for today’s post.
I don’t remember a whole lot of details from that particular race save for the fact that I successfully knocked down each and every hurdle while trying to *ahem* jump over them. If they only had an award for that accomplishment, perhaps my self esteem wouldn’t have been rendered to that of an old dish rag that day.
None the less, nearly forty years later, I learned something about the process of running the hurdles which would have come in pretty handy way back when. You see, the entire process takes a great deal of training and preparation.
That much is a foregone conclusion. What’s not foregone though is the fact that right before the race there are certain activities you need to partake in which will help you hurdle like the wind.
If I had known this back in the 70’s, I’m sure the outcome of the race would have been much different.
