Many of you know I'm a writer. Not a good one, not a published one, but still, I do some writing off and on. When I concentrate I can even squeak out some decent grammar and spelling. Anyone who's a writer knows that inspiration comes in many forms. It can hit you in the middle of a deeply profound moment, like a funeral or birth, or it can arrive as you're driving the kids to school and the stop light turns red.
When I look in the mirror, I could see how I inspire people. I mean, sure, I'm a force to remember, and I suspect that people are indirectly inspired by me all the time...
I imagine.... When a young woman sees me at the grocery store screaming at my kids, she's probably inspired not to have kids. When a pregnant woman sees me at the store, she's inspired to stop at one. When a mother of 3 sees me at the same store, she's inspired not to yell at her kids so much. When a person sees me at the pool in my new 2 piece I imagine she's inspired to visit Jenny Craig. Yes, I am inspirational, though not always positively for myself, I think I have done my share of inspiring the rest of the world.
So, when a woman approached me yesterday to say that I inspired her, I initially questioned, "To do what?" She continued, adding on to say that I motivated her to start walking again, to go to the gym, etc. "Because I see you doing it with all these children, and if you can do it without excuses with all these children (yes, she said that part twice) then I surely cannot have excuses."
Hmmm. I guess maybe that will be my T-shirt. It's inspiring, sort of. "I run because there are no excuses." Tough call though, I am really attached to, "I run because my a** needs to fit in my jeans."