Anyways, on this specific day in grade two, the playground was absolutely shrouded in snow. It was white everywhere. So obviously, I wore snow boots to school that day.
What I specifically recall is a brief moment during recess of that day. While out running around in the snow with my little buddies it seemed like I was the ONLY kid on the playground who had to stop and fix my socks. After taking what seemed like only five steps, the backs of my snow boots would have pulled my socks half off my feet. So I'd have to stop, delicately pull my foot out of the boot while clinging to the sock with my toes, pull the sock back on and shove my foot back into the boot. Take another five steps and repeat.
This really frustrated me. I watched everyone else having the time of their lives in this magnificent new snow and there I was, the kid with the crappy socks that kept falling down. I wished that my mom was savvy enough to buy me the magic socks that stayed up that everyone else was so obviously wearing. It just wasn't fair. I couldn't have fun until I had socks that would stay up.
Finally my buddy Grant Gilson ran past me and asked why I had stopped playing. I dramatically explained that my socks kept falling off so I couldn't. Without really missing a beat, Grant said, "So are mine," and took off to keep enjoying his brief break from school in the snow.
And so it was, today while running through the freshly fallen snow on my way to catch a ride, my snow boots pulled my socks half off. And I didn't stop running. And since I'm an over thinker, I managed to teach myself a lesson -- or rather, put a lesson I learned back in grade two into words.
Just because your socks are falling off doesn't mean you have to stop or can't let yourself enjoy the snow. Socks are just one of those silly distractions you rationalize into becoming an insurmountable obstacle.
