FOMO

This month, I've been struck by a massive case of FOMO. I'm not usually a fan of acronyms, but that one strikes a chord. I first heard it in the car on the way home from work, listening to the Scott Mills show on Radio One. FOMO, or 'fear of missing out' is that horrible feeling you get when everyone else is doing something and, even if you don't really want to do whatever it is they're doing, you don't want to be the only one who's not doing it.

Earlier this year I tried to get a team together for the Corrieyairack Challenge, no mean feat when you're rubbish at mountain biking and everyone else you know is either (a)brilliant at it or (b)not interested. Then, in a flurry of excitement, a group of friends decided to put in a few teams and I thought I was going to get the chance to give it a go. The 'Corrie' is a 43 mile race done on either mountain bike or as a duathlon. No one wanted to do the duathlon except me, so it was mountain biking all the way.

We went out for a training ride in May and that's where the gap between me and the rest became apparent. It was all off the beaten track and I turned into a gibbering wreck. I came off and landed head-first in a pile of heather, resulting in a heather burned face and a mouthful of the herby stuff. I got so upset about my inability to keep up that I started to cry and said I hated it. No wonder no one wanted me in their team!

So, I volunteered myself as the team marshal - donning a high vis vest and lollipop to help direct the traffic on the route. It sounded fun on paper but the reality was that I was JEALOUS and couldn't get over the fact that I wasn't taking part. Even if I'd entered the race and been last, I would have loved just getting over the finish line. Even if I'd hated every minute of it. You just can't beat the satisfaction of getting there and accomplishing something, especially when it's really difficult. I felt so left out of the post-race chat that I went into a proper sulk. And then got even more mad because my hubby is doing ANOTHER race this weekend and I'm not invited. It's brought back horrible memories... I'm back at school and no one wants me in their netball team.

Stop! I'm not going to feel sorry for myself for a minute longer. I'm so proud of B for doing really well in the race and know that I just need to work really hard, be brave, and not let myself get left out again.