Maybe no one finds the way my mind works quite as interesting as me, but seriously, what happened at spin class last week cracked me up. My spin instructor has us “going up a big hill” (which really means “use your imagination, ramp up the resistance, and struggle”) and announced it would be a seven minute hill, which seemed like cruel and unusual punishment, but I suppose that’s what a fitness class is really all about. Then in a motivational spirit, she called out “Imagine your goals at the top of your hill! Why did you get up at 5:30am to be here?”
Good question – why did I rip my face from my pillow after only six hours of sleep? Sure, I want to be fit and feel good about myself, but that wasn’t really the reason. What goals would I want sitting at the top of my hill? What in general would I want up there? And then it hit me.
The only thing I would want at the top of the hill, waiting for me to crest was a person. A person sitting behind a desk whom I adore completely and without reservation: Ira Glass.
Yes, the goal in my heart of hearts was to have Ira Glass awaiting me at the top of the biggest hill of my spinning life. I didn’t want him cheering or being wildly excited or even singing The OC theme song as I peaked. I just wanted him to shake my hand, maybe make some small talk, and not be too terrified when I told him how much I adored This American Life and how basically, it’s one of my favorite things about being alive.
Apparently, my motivation for waking up early and working out is to shake a PRI radio-show host’s hand. Or at least, it’s the thought of hoping to shake his hand. That’s kind of peculiar, right?