Do you remember when you were little? I don't, because I've never been little, but I used to be younger. And I remember kindergarten quite clearly.
My life as a six-year-old was ideal because I was the fastest runner in my class. Running was all I had to worry about. I had the alphabet nailed down except for that tricky \elameno-pee"" part and I had learned to write my name with the ""D"" facing in the right direction, so I had my academic life in order. I didn't need a r??sum??, sex hadn't even abstractly occurred to me and it would be three years until Guns 'N' Roses' Appetite for Destruction would simultaneously perfect and ruin my life.
In kindergarten, racing really mattered. The 50-yard footrace arbitrated playground supremacy. Your worth as a kindergartner was bought and sold with the names of the kids you could outrun.
I remember the day in gym class at Janesville's Martin Van Buren Elementary when I raced the only kid who posed a threat to my sprinting primacy. I whipped his ass. Everybody in Mrs. DeRubeis' morning kindergarten class saw me do it. I was untouchable.
I was untouchable for one year, but then the other kids started having growth spurts and catching up to me and my long legs. I turned from being the kid who would outrun you to the kid who would eat your lunch when you looked away. Years passed and I forgot how fast I had been and how good it made me feel to be the best, the mayor of running town.
Then one morning last weekend, I woke with a nearly uncontrollable desire to have a footrace with my roommate Kevin. There isn't anything specific about Kevin that makes me want to race him. In fact, I'm pretty sure he is faster than me.
But that's fine. I just miss the simple rivalry of the one-on-one footrace.
As I've grown older, I've found that adult, non-playground kinds of competition are almost always complicated and tedious. I'm tired of trying to prove my worth with braggy r??sum??s and dishonest cover letters. I'm spoiled on windy academic debates over who is the smartest. I'm sick to death of competing with other guys for the attention of attractive women. I want to race somebody to prove who is faster. When it is over, the issue will be settled.
I want you to settle some issues, too. I'm in the process of setting up a series of 50-yard footraces, to take place sometime shortly after final exams. You are invited.
I will be racing my friend Katie. I may have to race Kevin before he leaves for the summer, but, rest assured, I've confirmed a long list of racers. This will not be a tournament, just a series of exhibition matches.
If you have a score to settle with somebody, or just want to prove how fast you are, e-mail me your name and the name of the person who has agreed to race you. When the date and location are settled, I'll clue you in. Competitive matches only please-no one wants to see a bunch of blowouts.
It will be a glorious day. It will be so much fun it won't even matter that I'm not the fastest kid in class any more. I can still just eat your lunch when you look away.
Dan is a senior majoring in journalism. He can be reached at dlhinkel@wisc.edu. His column runs every Thursday in The Daily Cardinal.
