finishing

In 1984 the summer Olympics were held in Los Angeles. I'm sure records were broken, careers were launched, and history was made. I don't remember any of that. What I do remember was the women's marathon that year, and the unusual sight of a woman marathoner staggering into the Olympic stadium far behind the other runners. I recall how the crowd went silent while for several long minutes she painfully, pathetically lurched and stumbled her way through the final lap of the race. Mesmerized, I watched her struggle, marveling at her ability to push her body so far past its human limit, and unable to understand why she did it. If I ever knew it, I have long forgotten her name and where she was from, but I have never forgotten this- she finished the race.

One thing about me you should probably know is that I am not great at finishing things. Ideas constantly ferment in my head; plans form and float in the air above and around me, sometimes even making their way into quasi-reality where they take on the nebulous title of "projects," but these ideas and plans rarely progress to the point of completion. I'm not a good finisher, and this inability to complete things is the bane of my life. For instance? For instance...

• My baby's birth announcement cross-stitch project. Start date: 1983. Estimated time of completion: Well, considering that she's 25 now, I'd say I'll probably finish it somewhere around the 12th... of never.
• Re-covering the breakfast room chairs. We sold the house 9 years ago; the chairs went a few years later. Want to buy some nice plaid fabric? Never been used.
• Throw pillows for the new sofa. The "new" sofa recently celebrated its 8th anniversary and, although we've been a pillow short since the night I imprudently leaned back onto the candle and caught one on fire, it's not looking too promising. How about a handsome paisley print? I'll throw in the braid trim for free.
• Months of Franklin Covey pages. All as clean as the day they were clipped into the binder; some in their original packaging. Sorry, already pitched 'em.
• Wedding gifts undelivered. Is there any kind of statute of limitations on giving presents?
• Miscellaneous failures. Pictures undated, recipes unfiled, magazines unread, rooms undecorated, silver unpolished, mulch unspread, shall I go on?

Bless me, Martha, for I have sinned. I have not deheaded my flowers. My windows are not impeccably clean. I don't keep my gardening tools well-oiled after each use. Some of the dirt in my entry is original to the house. I don't vacuum my carpet in multiple directions to raise the nap. Some weeks I don't vacuum it at all.

But my heart is good, my intentions honorable, and I really want to learn to finish. It's just that the spirit is willing but the flesh, oh the flesh is so weak! What I want to say to you all, though, is please don't head for the parking lot just yet on this one. See that dot on the horizon? It's me, and I'm still running. Well, it's more of a slow shuffle; kind of a walk actually, but I'm still in the race. Cheer for me?

Speaking of finishing, I'm not sure how to end this odd confessional except to say that if you're a champion finisher, good for you! I admire you and probably watch you closely for tips. If you're in the middle of the pack, more power to you and keep on going. If you, like me, are a lagger, jog on over here next to me and let's commiserate. We'll get there one of these days. If not, then those who knew us best will stand by our graves some day and say, "Well, at least they finished something!"