I can’t quite believe how close I have come to doing my three push-ups this month (my goal was one in April = I failed, so then it was two in May = I failed, so then it became three in June). I can definitely do three cheat push-ups (with my knees on the floor, which is far more than I ever have been able to do – and my sister reckons that they should count) but I have still failed.
Failed in what should really be the easiest challenge in the entire history of, well, me. I still have a few more days to go, and I am looking after my shoulder like shoulder-crazed wally, so fingers crossed that by the end of the month I shall be a champion.
It’s quite hard for me to fail at something simple. I am strangely competitive. I don’t really care about winning or comparing myself to anyone else, but I am very determined that when I decide to do something, I actually do it. I decided to do this, and I have thus far failed. V annoying. Usually, the deciding is the hard bit (which is why I almost never decide anything) but once that bit is done, the rest is generally easy. Take, if you would, the time I decided to become a snowboard instructor. At the time, I had bad back, was fat and unfit, and 9/11 had just happened. I did it anyway, and even though I’ve never been the best snowboarder, I worked hard enough to be the best snowboard instructor at my resort, which was pretty cool. Here’s the proof, you doubters, you.
And yes, it was a long time ago, but hey, we can’t all be teenagers. If you were wondering, I couldn’t even do a single push up, so at least I am doing better than then. If I don’t succeed in June, then I’ve got to do four, yes FOUR in July! Oh help!