Taking a Hit: My Almost-Non-Political Post

           We were going to get hit hard whether Obama or Romney became President. We will always get hit hard no matter who is leading us because, well… that’s just life. Life is full of hits. Sometimes they’re BIG hits that leave us sprawled out on the ground for weeks and sometimes they’re little hits like a friend punching you playfully on the shoulder. But the fact remains the same: life will hit you.

           Last week, I was invited to participate in a writing retreat where blooming creative writers who want to someday write the next Harry Potter go to be inspired, write down ideas, and eat lots of really good home-cooked food and yogurt. We drove to a lodge and became hermits for three days, going out for walks now and then when it wasn’t too cold. We must have been cooped up for too long, because on the last night of the retreat, we decided to get a little crazy. We took all the bed mattresses from the loft and threw them all on the main floor. Then, we took it in turns to jump from the loft onto the mattresses. I guess you could call this “loft jumping.”

After we got tired of falling onto dirty mattresses, we decided to play a game called “Ninja Kick.” (Now you know all the weird games creative writers play, right?) In this game, one person holds two mattresses upright while another person runs at full speed straight toward them and tries to knock them down by slamming their body against the mattresses. The person behind holding the mattresses has to brace themselves and pray the person coming at them is either merciful or really weak. Or you have to be a person with actual muscle on their body to take the hit. Unfortunately, I am not one of those people.

 “Hey, Liz! It’s your turn!” one of my teachers said. I knew it was a joke because I was easily the smallest person on the retreat.

“Haha,” I laughed. Then I said, “But I can do it if you really want me to.”

“Nuh-uh,” my teacher said, laughing. “You couldn’t even hold the mattresses up.”

“Oh yeah?” I said. I knew it was a bad idea to go behind those mattresses with someone charging straight at me. I knew I would go down if I did it, but I heard myself saying, “I can do it.”

I pulled two mattresses up from the hardwood floor slowly. They were heavy. It was all I could do to drag them both upright and get them vertically aligned, one in front of the other like two oversized dominoes. I was reminded how dominoes always tend to fall, but I was determined to go through with it. I knew I would get hit, I knew I would go down, but somehow I didn’t care. I would prove to them that I could stand behind two mattresses and take a hit, even if it brought me down. I handed over my glasses to someone standing nearby so they wouldn’t break, and made sure a couple of mattresses were placed behind me when I fell backward. Then I held the two thin pieces of bedding in front of me and braced myself.

The first person came at me. Oh no, it was Kaira. I could tell by the thundering rhinoceros-like running. It was like a pounding death drum coming at me. I squeezed my arms tighter around the mattresses and shut my eyes.

POW. I don’t remember feeling the hit, but I somehow flew to the side and landed lopsided, partway on one of the mattresses and partly on the floor.

“Are you okay?” voices all around me said.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” I responded as if it had been no big deal. And it wasn’t a big deal. I wasn’t hurt. I had just taken a hit. “I’m great.”

“Let’s see if you can handle a smaller person,” they said.

They chose the next smallest person besides me, and I got ready once again behind the mattresses. This time, I wondered if I would actually be able to hold my ground. After all, she wasn’t much bigger than me. I positioned myself again with one leg bent behind me so I would be able to take the impact better. My hands firmly held both mattresses together as they both leaned heavily against my body, already threatening to tip it over even without someone running into me. I braced myself and got ready for the impact I knew was coming.

BAM. This time, I flew even further to the side, missing the mattresses behind me completely and almost slamming into a rocking chair. But the rocking chair was far from my mind even though my head had almost banged right into its hardwood arm. It was the floor that had hurt. When I had been hit, I flew to the floor and fell straight down on my backside. Instantly, I felt a jabbing pain in my tailbone and knew how stupid I had been. (Funny how it takes us getting hurt for us to realize how dumb we were being, right?)

But at the same time, even with my tailbone throbbing, I was glad I had done it for the simple reason that I had done it. I hadn’t allowed my size to determine what I could and couldn’t do. I had said I would do it, and I had followed through even if I had gotten pulverized in the process.

Some people may think I was crazy—an undersized, underweight, twenty-two year old holding up two mattresses that probably weighed the same as her while two people running at full speed slammed their full weight against her. And maybe I was a little crazy that night. But the fact remains that I learned something very important by doing this stupid, crazy thing. I learned that I can take a hit and get back up again.

In the end, it doesn’t matter who we are or what our size is. If we are all determined enough to take on the challenges that come running full speed at us in life, brace ourselves, and take the hit, we can get back up again. It might be hard; the hit might leave us dazed or hurting in uncomfortable places like our tailbone, but we can do it.

I’m not saying you should go throw yourself behind two mattresses every day and allow someone to bowl you over, but I am saying we all need to realize that hard hits are going to come our way and we need to be ready for them. Brace yourselves and pray that you’ll be strong enough to hold up against the things coming at you. But if you do fall, missing the mattresses completely and hitting the ground hard, know that it’s not over. You can get back up again.

It’s not over. Be strong, even if the only strength you have is the strength that allows you to get back up again.