I’m a Batman kinda guy. You know that already, right? I like Batman because he basically had to do everything from scratch to get where he went. Okay, he was the heir to billions of bucks, but money alone won’t bring your body to peak shape. And he is devious. I like that Batman will throw sand in your face, kick you in the nuts, and only when he’s stepping on your throat, finally say, “Sorry, Grandpa, but nobody better lay a finger on my Butterfinger.” He plays better alone. Yeah, he sometimes hangs out with kids, but that’s just a weird quirk.
And then there’s Captain America
Cap’s a happy blond guy who got shot up with the Super Soldier Serum. He’s America’s son. He fought in World War II. He punched Hitler in the face. He’s a burly American. I imagine he’d drive an SUV, were he to spend much time out of costume. He also NEVER complains. Captain America is the guy people look to for a leader because he’s stalwart. He never wavers. He takes everything head on.
I hate Captain America.
Here are some truths about me. I’m greedy. I’m selfish. I like to complain. I am a sarcastic bastard. I don’t mind taking alternate routes to the goal. Though I wouldn’t want to be particularly unfair, I’m not about the straight and narrow, either. I tend to think I’m working for the right side of the problem, but I’m not out to earn merit badges.
This morning, I wanted to bitch that I’m sore. I wanted to complain that my body is SORE from my new workout. I couldn’t do more than 55 pushups today (2 sets 20, 1 set 15). I mean, I could’ve pushed out some lackluster ones, but nothing as crisp as Wednesday. I wanted more from my chinups, but didn’t have it. Waaahh.
But the moment I went to post it, I thought about Captain America. Part of my ongoing mission since starting this self-improvement stuff is to remember that one of my roles is as a role model in the making. Some people take strength from my example. And so, I didn’t want to bitch.
Curse you, Captain America.