I'm somewhat of a competitive person in nature, which is, most of the time, a real liability. But last weekend this quality of mine came in handy.
I checked my work e-mail bright and early Saturday morning, and one had the potential of ruining my weekend, because it reminded me of the letter of "constructive criticism" my friends Angela and Karen handed me in the fourth grade. (You'd think I'd be over it by now.)
I obsessed about this e-mail for an hour, and then I decided to do the unthinkable: shut down the computer.
Eric and I loaded the double stroller with towels, sunscreen, Little Mermaid surf boards, and Ariel water wings, and headed to the pool, where we met a few of our friends.
"Hey, John," I said to the ex-marine we hang out with, "you're a good swimmer, right? Let's race!"
He shook his head no.
"But," he said, "I challenge you to swim underwater to the other side of the pool without taking a breath."
I looked at the one side, and then the other side, and thought it was at least 25 yards, maybe 25 meters. And there were tons of kids that I'd have to swim around--so the path would be longer than 25 years (or meters).
"Okay, I'll do it!" I said. Because I didn't want the ex-marine thinking I was a wuss.