Life Is Too Short for Regret
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LIFE IS TOO SHORT FOR REGRET
Never once had I imagined you could in a sense, challenge your zest for life going to the Kansas State Fair. Just like any previous year before it, we loaded up and began our journey to the state fair to Hutchinson, KS. Little did I know besides the usual cotton candy and funnel cakes, I would find myself contemplating fear and regret.
An hour into the three hour long car ride; the ragged seatbelt digging into my neck, the monotony of the wide expanse of the open plains, I unbuckle and lay down in an attempt to nap. No sooner than I fall asleep, my father wakes me up tapping on my arm. “Here ya go take a look at this.” He hands me a flyer in bold letters “Kansas State Arm-Wrestling Championship September 13th At the Kansas State Fair” written atop it. Sign up at 11 a.m., with the first matches beginning at about 2 p.m. “We can still make it in time to register,” dad says. I reluctantly agree not yet fully considering the scope of the endeavor.
The quivering in my stomach, the adrenaline driven heartbeat already kicked in, geez were not even half way there yet. I think to myself. I kept replaying over in my mind how I imagined it would play out. I again tried lying down in the back seat of the car to calm myself and hopefully fall asleep. No such luck. Upon our arrival, I see a man standing at what appeared to be a rather light looking table for its intended usage, with its thin black rusted support bars. “Hi there you here for the competition, oh and dont worry shell hold up just fine.” He says. “Yep sure am,” I replied. He asks, “Have you ever arm wrestled before competitively,” I said “No just for fun with friends and family,” “You look like a pretty strong kid youll probably win a match but dont be surprised when you get beat.” “We have guys from all over the state come to do this event so just dont be surprised when you lose,” he said. No response I just nodded my head agreeing to disagree.
Surrounded by the aroma of fried funnel cakes, grease laden cheeseburgers, and seasoned turkey legs, eating seemed my way out from this state of anxiety. We find a makeshift diner not far from the stage, sitting down watching the chiefs game. I can hardly focus on eating, Im so nervous its only about 45 minutes away from starting. I cram down the greasy burger, so I can hurry up to get back before everyone gets there. Walking back over I cant help but keep replaying the events I had imagined before in my mind, me pinning his arm against that dense black pad, or mine was being helplessly pulled away from me. I awoke from my state of torment as the crowd was growing larger, realizing that I still had a task at hand.
The man in charge, looking nothing like youd expect to run such a macho competition, with his fancy dress slacks and small, childish stature. Looking like a miniature boxing announcer as he gets up from his lowly chair behind his scorers table and grabs his microphone. Announcing in his surprisingly deep voice, ” Ladies and Gentleman were about to start the Kansas State Arm-Wrestling championship it will be conducted in a single elimination format, the winner stays in the loser goes home. He begins announcing the fellow competitors by their weight classes. I carelessly inspect the others until he reaches my class. As hes naming them off, I can now tell who Im going up against by the reaction of having their name called. Then I hear, and welcoming back the defending champion John Talkington. Visions of my arms being ripped away helplessly flooding back.
I pace around as I wait for the lighter weight classes to go through the preliminary round. Waiting for him to call up the light heavyweights, I contemplate my sanity, trying to think of an excuse out of this mess. My father I think having a keen sense of my feelings comes over and tells me, “If even a part of you is considering doing this then you must do it, regret is