Thursday, May 6, 2010


I am the firmly uncompetitive type. Lawn bowls, speech competitons and a game of cards are all approached in a very relaxed manner. I'm not sure what happened because I used to be a super fierce carb burning hyper jock who wore adidas tracksuits, trained for 2 hours a day and kicked ass at regional swimming competitions/hockey tournaments. Maybe I over exerted myself in my childhood but the bright flame of desire to be number one and punch the air repeatedly has left me. All that remains is a rather calm feeling and the knowledge that my very best effort is my best.

Last night I attended the Wellington finals for the 48hour film competiton as a contender. I felt serenly calm, gulped back a few glasses of wine and watched the short films with my team. Part of me misses the burning desire, the sweaty palms and rising nervousness. With so much drama the rollercoaster ride of emotions is a lot steeper and the highs are higher. But, like any good drug, the comedown is literally awful despairing over why things weren't done differently and how I allowed myself to lose. I think I am happy to be a calm contender these days. Arguably, I may win less and I could be described as lacking 'passion' but if you're enjoying the ride, who's to complain?

We ended up coming in at second place. For a split second my adidas tracksuit wearing monster self emerged green eyed and jealous. It disappeared just as quickly and then I felt genuine happiness, overwhelmed by the fact we had made it so far. Hearing a theatre of 700 people clapping provided me with me pure elation. I have come to realise guest appearances from my former self are okay from time to time, a bit of a push is good, just as long as I don't rehash those tracksuits.

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