March Madness

I encourage others to succeed for a living.  I am a grown up cheerleader.  Over the years I have learned that there is more than one way to be successful and I try to stay focused on the technique and strategy as opposed to the delivery.

Mandy in action...an action shot.

But every once in a while I'm able to enjoy pure competition.  No holds barred, adrenalin packed race to the finish.

There was the family softball game, during which I was body slammed to the ground while trying to make an out at third.

For the record, our team lost.

A few months earlier, Jake and I raced Scott and Sarah across the ship channel in the Orcas Islands, our paddles cutting into the cold sea like knives against cheese...

Scott and Sarah watching us leave them in the dust...

Jake and I...see the cutting...see the cheese...

I'm not sure Sarah and Scott were even racing us, but it felt good to leave them far behind (especially when Scott started taking pictures of the eagles nesting in the trees - "Look, there's eagles in the trees!").  Do I sound bitter?

I spent many a Sunday this fall rooting for the Jets, having more fun when they were playing teams my friends were rooting for.  When can we get a Jets Chargers match up?  Huh?  Huh?  Jake and I on opposite sides of the living room, throwing popcorn, fist pumping, shouting obscenities...*cough* that last one will probably be mostly me.

But since the NFL playoffs, there hasn't been much for me to do competition wise, unless you count balancing my checkbook.  Me against the bills, Sumo style...

Enter March Madness.  My father and I are competing against others for pride alone.  He will do all the picks and I will gloat over the others as his predictions come gloriously true.  HAH!  ARE YOU READY FOR THE SUPERIOR DOMINATION OF...well, MY DAD?  I don't think you are.  You better do some push ups or something to get the blood flowing.