Imagine that climactic scene in a cheesy movie when the well-intentioned heroine gets caught walking in a unexpected rainstorm. She reacts in the only way she can—sprinting toward safety (that is of course 20+ minutes away) while hiding her smart phone under her shirt to protect it from water damage.
Rain droplets fall into her eyes, which are barely open and already stinging from the washable mascara she accidentally bought last week. It, too, has hopped on the “let’s run” train and is streaming down her cheeks. The rain pours harder but she pushes on, annoyed that weather predictions are (predictably) unreliable...
10 minutes to go.
She’s now struggling to breathe because:
Meanwhile, a motivational voice in her earbuds just happens to be saying, “Don’t celebrate participation. Celebrate results!”
She glances up at the sky. “Is THIS your way of making me participate fully?” She keeps running.
Eventually she can hardly breathe and stops briefly under a tree lining the sidewalk. Through the snot, the sticky clothing, the stinging eyelids, she bursts into laughter, not caring what she looks like or what drivers in cars passing by are thinking.
This is real. This is messy. This is life. Not a Hallmark movie.
She has one mission: get home with her phone still working. No prince in shining armor is coming to her rescue. She’s gonna get there soaking wet and on her own two legs.
A few minutes later she turns the familiar corner and makes a mad dash for the finish line. Crashing through her back gate, she is elated and exhausted and home.
She made it.
She pulls out her phone to check if it’s still operational. The motivational voice stopped speaking a while ago, but everything still works.
She thanks her limbs for carrying her.
She thanks her now drenched shirt for protecting her phone.
And she vows to never again buy washable mascara.