Fight inappropriate.

   Recess in 6th grade was spent sitting on the monkey bars. The girls would watch the boys from a safe distance. The boys occasionally approached to make a rude comment, trying to be funny. Lame!
But one Thursday in spring, word quickly spread across the playground that Chris and Stacey were going to fight. After school everyone was going to meet at the bike racks by the back alley to watch Chris fight Stacey. All bets were on Chris. She was that girl that looked 14, while the rest of us still looked 11. She told stories about her dad being in prison and her mom being crazy. I had been to her house once and it was dark and they had weird, unidentifiable things frozen in their freezer and half dead plants on the kitchen window sill.  She stole cigaretts from her parents and taught me how to sneak candy into my back pockets while at the 7-11. Stacey was tall and awkward. Being quiet, smart, and friends with the teachers made her an easy target.
  After the bell everyone ran to the bike racks, I rode my bike to school so I would like to say I had no choice, but I did. I could have headed home but I waited. I don't even know why there was going to be a fight but I had never seen a fight before. I had been a target of bullying at my previous school, knocked down in the hallways, given bloody noses on the bus, called "gordo," but never fought back. Never told a teacher or my parents. I was friends with Chris, perhaps out of fear, but I was rooting for Stacey. Would she show up?
   Stacey showed up. A circle formed around the two girls. It was silent. With clenched lips, fingers rolled into fists and tears in her eyes Stacey came out swinging. Her arms moving like airplane propellers just hoping. Chris managed to grab her wrists, twist her arms and push her to the ground. With a taunting chuckle it was over. That was it. I hopped on my bike and rode home realizing it was the weirdest, most confusing thing I had witnessed. What was the point?
   Looking back now I realize the point was Stacey showed up. She said she would be there and she was. Stacey faced her bully and fought. Nobody was going to do it for her. After that, both girls were treated differently. Chris had lost her power.
   Why am I bringing this up now? Word is out that somebody wants to "kick my ass" and they have let others know. The sight is not the playground but a Spartan Race. My instant response was "game on!"
Now I am sick about it. This is not seventh grade when I slammed "Luis" into the lockers after dumping my backpack out in the hallway between classes. This is not tenth grade when I got thrown out of a soccer game after lifting a girl off the ground by the neck of her jersey after she did a slide tackle into my goalie. This is not freshmen year when I refrained from picking up my lacrosse stick with revenge in mind but instead picked up my paintbrush. This is 2012, I am a 43 year old women, mother, and wife. Somehow though I am feeling threatened, and the need to defend myself.
    There is no way this person can beat me in a mud race and no way I would let it happen. As my children said, "they have no idea what they are getting into." (One ego check please and it was juvenile of me to tell my kids any of this, my mistake.)
Second, if I win I will feel good for a fleeting moment, then awful. Should I drop out now, letting something I love doing be tarnished? Let the bully win? I could throw the race, no one would know but me and God.
   Third, the point of the mud races is that they are team challenges, not races. When I started doing triathlons and the mud races the only one I was out to beat was me. I have nothing to prove to anyone else. I got word that the challenger is now hesitating, while others are excited by the idea of me getting my "ass kicked." I could encourage them to join me and we can do it together. It could be monumental but it will take more trust them either of us have for the other. I am willing to risk it. But will they join me or stab me in the back? Yet again I realize all I can control is myself and ask God for guidance.
   Psalm 55:21-22.  His talk is smooth as butter, yet war is in his heart; his words are more soothing than oil, yet they are drawn swords. Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken