I'm a cheerleader. Always have been. I never actually participated in the sport of cheerleading, but I acted as head cheerer for every team I was ever involved with. I'm not sure why the need to cheerlead is such a huge part of who I am. Maybe I heard lots of cheers when I was a kid and I just figured that's how it is. When people are trying to accomplish something, you cheer them on, right? What else would you do? Ignore them? That just seems so - selfish. Cheering is my way of showing support.
The most recent example of cheerleading-gone-crazy is the Turkey Trot that Skirt Sports did together last month. I decided that it would be important for me to carry a cowbell during the run. As I started, I asked a few women, "Cool or annoying?" "Cool," they said, so I kept on ringing. I couldn't help myself. I rang that cowbell for every person in the race. At the end, I rang that damn cowbell for another 20 minutes as I cheered people in. I rang so much that people stopped chanting "More cowbell!" I rang so long that my forearm hurt more than my legs!
I believe that cheering may be genetic. My sister, Michele, is also a huge cheerer. The louder the better. My mom and dad cheered their brains out when we were younger. I have thought about what I want for my daughter and this is it.
I want to hear people say "Go Wilder. You can do it!"
So I will continue to lead the charge and cheerlead every day. As you can see, I have already subjected Wilder to the power of the cheer. Wouldn't it be great if her first words were "Go Wilder. I can do it!"