Cold Feet

It was late February. I had taken out papers to run for Congress a week ago, and gotten about half the signatures I needed. I was tired and it was Sunday, so decided to rest that day: bad mistake. I got a bad case of cold feet that day.

It was a cold, windy, rainy day with nothing but depressing, dark skies. I wore several layers of clothes, but was still shivering. The weather was not helping.

What was I doing? Not qualified to be a Congressman. No previous political experience; at least I should try something easier first, like running for city council? Not a community activist or active member in the county Republican Party. Do not have a built-in, political following. This was a foolish thing to do. I questioned my very existence. I had an upset stomach and ate nothing. I spent most of the day sitting gloomily in a chair, staring at gray, gloomy skies. I almost quit.

Then, I had an early dinner, since I was unable to eat lunch, and began to feel a little better. I thought: if I quit now, I will disappoint all the people who had supported me so far, not to mention the entire Republican party. Besides: I would be unopposed. I would win the primary, even if I were one of those disgusting, slimy things that you find under rocks at the beach at low tide.

It was Sunday, so I enjoyed watching 60 Minutes and Nature. That night, I went to bed confident, and looking forward to what the next week would bring.