Lately I have been struggling with who I am. Where do I want my life to go? How do I want to get there? What do I want to accomplish? My job has been frustrating, school has been depleting, we own a home now so I can’t just pick up and go. So, what should I do with the rest of my life? And last night as I laid on my couch, eating ice cream and Fritos, I realized my life long dream.
I want to be an Olympian.
And I owe it all to Michael Phelps (I love him. And his ears.). I watched him win his first gold medal of these Games, and, I’m not going to lie. I cried. I cried because I had just seen one of those mini-bio stories they do on certain athletes throughout the Games, and I felt like I was old friends with him. When they showed his mom on the jumbotron, I actually said out loud through my tears, “Hiiiii Debbie!!!”
So, he wins his medal, I’m crying, and then the interviewer stops him and asks him what he is going to do for the rest of the day. His response?
“I’m going to take a nap and try to get as many calories in me as possible.”
Holy. Crapness. That is my life’s calling. I sat up in my living room, sending crumbs of Fritos and peanuts from the top of my ice cream cone flying.
“Thats it!” I thought. “That’s what I’m supposed to do with my life. Nap and eat calories. I’m an Olympian.”