Hard to Tell

I often had this problem when I needed to confess or apologize to my parents. I would tiptoe down the hall to their bedroom door, which was always wide open, stand at the threshold with bated breath, then chicken out and scurry back down the hall, eating the words that never came out. Then I would repeat. Tiptoe to the beat of my strategic words, shift weight from foot to foot at the doorframe, retreat to the safe hallway of unspoken words. Talking was not usually such a hard thing, but in moments like this one, I always struggled.

"Come on, Kris, this shouldn't be so hard! Just go tell Mom!" My heart pattered this message to me as I stalked one final time up the hall and past the bathroom, finally breaking the barrier of the doorway. Mom looked up as I eased myself onto the edge of their king-sized bed. Her expectant wide eyes were mirrors of my own, but her small lips looked huge compared to the ones tightly pursed on my own face.

I didn't say anything. At least I didn't walk back down the hall either.

"Hey, Kris." Mom knew. She always knew! How could she already know? This was something I had only told Jordan and Mr. Mac. But she knew. That was her knowing "Hey, Kris."

"Hey, Mom." I giggled. She couldn't know. She laughed in return, an edgy expectant laugh which matched the edgy, expectant look she gave me.

"Whatcha doin?" She went back to typing and I looked down at the gray carpet poking up between my toes. Had my mouth ever stayed closed for so long? I didn't think words could be tangible objects, but I could feel them lodged halfway between my stomach and my uvula, half bursting to come out and half struggling to be swallowed up and hide somewhere in the lining of my small intestine.

The tongue won. "So i've been thinking, Mom, and I just had this small little idea just come into my little mind and I just couldn't stop thinking about it and the more I thought about it the more it came into real life for me." Mom lowered her glasses and raised her eyebrows. "I just was thinking that this year I might just want to maybe run," I was about to say it. I couldn't quite tell why I felt like this was such a moment of revealing a great surprise, but I hesitated before charging on, "run the Pikes Peak Ascent."

Not the reaction I expected. Almost none, in fact.

"So I need to run a qualifying half marathon and I looked them up and there is one in December in Pueblo and so I guess just if you could maybe help me out that's what I want to do and I know it sounds crazy but I just have been thinking about that and that is what I have been thinking." Great. For all the anticipation of getting those words out, now they wouldn't stop coming.

"Ok. Sounds great. Just let us know if you need to sign up or whatever." She looked at me, nodding her head, an almost amused look on her face. But I think she knew I was serious. At least I hoped she did. I had been thinking about the challenge of Pikes Peak for months, ever since the beginning of the cross country season and I was obsessed.

Feeling as relieved as I do every time I finally let out the secret or confession to my parents, I slid back out of the room and breathed in the hall. Why was it so hard to tell them that one little idea? Maybe it was because I was scared someone else would think of the same challenge and the allure of the absurdity of it all would be lost. Maybe it was because I wanted everyone to be sure it was something I had decided to do all on my own. Maybe it was because if no one knew and I ran back down the hall before I actually did it, no one would be any wiser. Whatever it was, it was hard to tell. But it didn't matter.

I always went back up the hall anyway. I would go up the mountain, too.