Crazy

I obsess about stuff. Hi, my name is Caron and I’m an obsessor.

You might politely say I become intensely focused for short periods of time.

On Sunday I am climbing the staircase up this building. It’s the tallest building in Des Moines. Probably in all of Iowa because grain elevators only reach so high.



I decided to do this back in December. I sent out little emails to several people who wouldn’t block my calls for asking for donations and I quickly reached the minimum amount of $100. Thanks to a co-worker named John who is constantly badgering me and stirring the pot and getting me to sign up for races and give up cookies for Lent, I am now at $125.

Speaking of John, props to him. Like me, he also goes to many of these events alone and he is always at the finish line to cheer me in when we’re at the same event.

He, however, was not stupid enough to sign up to climb 1,100 steps, 85 flights of stairs, 41 stories in the sky. He is amused enough to stand in my office doorway with a cup of coffee to say, “So, you ready for this?”

My answer hasn’t changed much. It goes like this.

No. [Chuckles]
I’m afraid of stairs. (You told me that)
I thought it would keep me motivated. [sips coffee] (hmmmmm, but it didn’t)
My heart is going to explode. (Probably not, but that could be interesting)

At this point I chose one of two routes:
1. I begin to freak out and get hand-flappy about how much I am not in shape for this event. This makes him laugh at me. Naturally.
2. I squint my eyes in that way women have and I change the subject, “Have you started training for the Dam-to-Dam?” I hope this annoys him, but he’s a guy so it probably doesn’t.

You see, the D2D is an event I won’t do and I know he doesn’t like it, but he is doing it anyway. I digress.

I meant to tell you about my obsession. I keep checking the web site to find out my start time. I realized this morning that my co-worker Ann and I probably won’t get successive start times because we didn’t register as a team of two. I don’t know what I will wear beyond my running shoes. They want to keep gear check-in to an absolute minimum. If I park in the garage and walk through the skywalk, I can do that without freezing to death. I have to pick up my packet, but they don’t include the timing chip with the packet. They don’t give you that until Sunday morning. Why? Ann and I have talked the excited chatter of rookies a couple times. We’ve talked about how sore we still are from the exercise class we did on Saturday. She wishes she had done more fundraising. I wish I done some training. And then I feel perfectly calm.

It’s all part of the fun, though. That must be one reason why I do these events. I enjoy the crazy insanity. Crazy.