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I have returned from the wilderness, friends!
And by "wilderness" I mean a state park in western Maryland with a bunch of beer nerds and lawn game enthusiasts.
Given my "vampire chic" complexion and coloring, I came back from my four days of galavanting in the sunshine with friends a bit crispy — but it was 100% worth it. (In fact, I can't remember the last time I set a vacation-related "out of office" email auto-responder prior to this trip.)
One of the major highlights from the weekend, however, came about while playing cornhole.
For those of you who do not know me, this seemingly innocuous game is my nemesis. Because, as I like to say, "I'm #1 at enthusiasm in cornhole, but accuracy is another story." Meaning I am really, really bad at it.
Ninety-nine percent of the time, I throw wide right or wide left or woefully short, but very rarely ever on target. One time, I even struck a small child while playing. Oops. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Still, I always have a lot of fun flailing bean bags into the air with reckless abandon. But that didn't change the fact that I would feel a bit sad whenever a partner would look at me like a Little League coach who had to remind himself that he can't actually yell at six-year-olds.
Then, something crazy happened during one game this past weekend. I actually scored points. Multiple points. And most of my shots made it on the board. I almost exploded with joy.
The difference this time?
I wish I could say it was some sort of recommitment to goal-setting or something else "business-y" and inspiring but, honestly, I got angry and overly competitive, and something clicked in my brain.
Seriously, that's it.
For a long time I resisted that part of myself — the little malcontent inside of me who loathes being a punchline and loves being a winner.
But as I've gotten older, I've realized that it's OK to be competitive and to want to win. Not every tick in the win column has to seem effortless. It's OK to sweat and to let people see that you really want it.
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