Pride is defined as feeling deep pleasure or satisfaction as a result of one’s own achievements, qualities, or possessions or those of someone with whom one is closely associated.
Feeling pride is definitely one of those emotions that walks a fine line. When it comes to your own achievements or qualities, society only accepts so much. Just look at Facebook. If you post a picture of yourself running a race, say, people all respond with comments of congratulations. However, by the 4th picture you post with your medal, you can almost see the collective eye roll of your friends. One picture of your baby is cute. A picture of your child’s every waking moment is seen as obnoxious. It is a slippery slope my friends.
Last week I had a moment of pride and I just need to share it.
Like nearly all other 20-30 year girls in New York, part of my workout routine involves spending upwards of $30 for a 45 minute spin class. I put on my Lululemon capris and tank top, which are both FAR too cute and expensive to actually sweat in, and join the masses to either “bounce up and down on a bike to the beat of club music” or “fly to the top of the leader board.” Soul Cycle and Flywheel appear far too often on my credit card bill for my husband’s liking but what can I say, it is still cheaper than therapy.
After class, I often call my mom during my walk to the subway. She loves hearing about the class, particularly when I go to Flywheel where they rank your performance against others in the class. But when I go to Soul Cycle, which focuses less on competition and more on “spiritualness”, she has a hard time understanding that.
Mom: “Did you win?”
Me: “This wasn’t the one with scoring”
Mom: “Well, you can probably still tell if you were the best”
Me: “Yah… I was bouncing up and down and feeling the music better than anyone else.”
Even though my mom loves riding her bike outside, and she likes hearing about my spin classes, she had never taken a class herself. I constantly tell her that she should try it but, you know, trying new things after a certain age becomes more and more difficult. Finally I threw down the gauntlet. I told my mother that she needed to try spinning within the next few days or I wouldn’t’ talk to her for a week. Considering we talk AT LEAST once a day, that scared her.
The next thing I knew, she was signing up for an introductory spinning class at her gym. Unfortunately, she picked a day where she was already scheduled to play in two tennis matches. I though there was no way she was going to go.
Well, not only did she go, but she stayed after the 30 minute intro session for the 45 class! She called me after her class to tell me how it went. Hearing about her experience was ten times better than any class I’d attended myself. I was so proud of her for sticking to her commitment, stepping outside of her comfort zone and trying something new and a little scary. It’s a funny feeling to cheer on someone who has been your biggest cheerleader for 31 years. Funny but good.
Oh, and she’s already gone back for a second spin class. Pretty soon she’s going to be at the top of the leader board.
In summary – Mom, I’m proud of you. The kind of proud that is over the top, obnoxious and totally hated by Facebook audiences everywhere.