It’s exactly 10:31 right now and I am just finishing up “the sprint”
That’s right. Quotations and italics. This is serious stuff.
Okay, so– I like to think that I manage my time pretty well. I mean, I’m also pretty lazy, but it’s an acceptable amount of laziness. I get stuff done. Usually. I know when this is more important than that and so I should do this first. That’s usually how I get stuff done. Make a list. Check stuff off. Boring, but effective.
But then–then– there are those times when there are just so many thises that they all have to be done first. Immediately. At the same time. For example: this past week. I had a bunch of tests and a 300 point-paper due by midnight on Friday and I had to write and draw a kid’s book. In French. (Mind you, this was all in the span of three days.) Apparently I have become a machine in which you put unfinished tasks in and get finished tasks out. One after the other.
And then today, we ran around a few different grocery stores preparing for Christmas. That part was actually kind of fun, but I was still in a hurry.
I think you see where I’m going with this.
The formal definition of sprint is: v. to race or move at full speed, especially for a short distance, as in running, rowing, etc. (thank you dictionary.com).
Whenever I accumulate a whole bunch of ginormous things that need to get done, I feel like a distance runner on the track who’s been pacing herself during the race, turning laps at a steady, measured, manageable pace (sort of). And if you know anything about distance runners, you know that they usually sprint the last 100 meters or so.
That’s me. I feel like by the end of the race I’m so tired i just want to quit and sit down and eat a bagel or something. So what do I do? I make myself push past all those awful things I have to get through. I sprint through them. Or I try to.
Let me be honest: it’s downright awful. I have to mentally prepare myself in the morning. In my head I’m literally repeating the words just a little longer. This is the sprint. You’re almost there (even though you’re really not). Rinse. Repeat. When it gets really bad I put up notes all over the place to keep myself motivated.
My sister laughs at me every time she sees that sticky note on my desktop.
But hey, it works. Sort of. I mean, you can only sprint so many times in a row, right? Perhaps. But for now I’m staring right at the finish line. I’m almost there! I can see the end! Prepare the celebratory cake!
So for all you sprinters out there, metaphorical or no, just know that I’m with you. You can conquer this!
You can do it!