For the past month, I have been engaged in a stair climbing competition at school. I recruited 9 of my friends to form two teams (Mary Kate and Ashley, natch), and we've made bets with each other, as well as two other staff/faculty teams in the department, on who will prevail as the best team. Naturally, smack talk ensued. I love smack talk like empanadas. I don't get the chance to enjoy either very often, but when I do, I enjoy it very much and people are always a little surprised (OK, fine, empanadas aren't a perfect analogy).
But alas, this post isn't about me. It's about Marie the Machine. Team Ashley Olson (sic) had the long legs. They had the crazy intense folks. We had the sweet, the mild mannered, and the vertically challenged. While I emailed my team with encouragements every week about beating goals and taking others down, no one much cared. Sure, we'd climb to the 10th floor in between class breaks, but there was no thirst for blood. Everyone was under the impression that this was a "friendly competition." Except for Marie. She understood. Marie humored me. Marie climbed her soul out. And yesterday afternoon, hours before the competition closed, when I calculated that we were down by 15 flights and everyone was already home (the flights had to be climbed in a work or school related building- no residential stairs), and everyone else was content to let it go (and when I felt especially bad because I skipped out on stairs to go to dim sum), Marie walked to school and climbed. 15. 20. 25. 35. 45. The numbers kept rolling in. In the end, she climbed 50 flights. Alone. On a Friday afternoon. A quiet feat so selfless and appreciated that what Curt Schilling did in 2004 pales in comparison.
In the end, the staff team that was ahead by 15 surged past us and still won by yet another 15 flights. So we beat 2 teams and will be collecting baked goods from them, but we'll be paying up as well. Life's narratives aren't neat. But Marie's tenacity is the stuff of legends.
No comments:
Post a Comment