Anybody Can Do That

Anybody Can Do That.

It’s amazing to me how often complete strangers tell me that as their reaction to something I do, can do, or have done.  I’m not necessarily looking for praise, but I’m certainly not looking for denigration.  

As an example, about a month ago I decided to dive into dating once again.  Don’t worry.  It only lasted a weekend before I had enough of it, but I tried.  This time around I decided to try out the Hinge app.  Allegedly, the people who choose this app are more interested in actually meeting someone and forming a relationship.  It was easy enough to set up my profile, and I’ll admit that I appreciated their approach which was less “write an essay about yourself” more “choose three questions to answer or ask”.  If anything it allowed for an infusion of a little personality in the endless scroll of potential dates who like to travel, are inexplicably on a boat and borrowed a small child for a non-threatening photo.  

One of the questions you were offered was to play a game of Two Truths and a Lie.  I was down with this.  I can usually come up with a good one, but I always forget two of the three statements I have chosen in the past. So, it’s like the first time every time—including right now.

Please join me in a little game.  Here are my three statements.  Two are true.  One is not.

1. I competed in 6 triathlons in a single year.
2. My lack of dancing ability led to a demotion.
3. My childhood pet was a parakeet.

Without fail, the triathlon statement is always chosen as the lie.  And the triathlon statement is the only one that I ALWAYS use because it seems so unlikely, but is absolutely true (and a huge source of personal pride).  Most people don’t think I could do one triathlon, much less six.  I’m not surprised by that in the least.  I’m no athlete.  I was always chosen last in gym class.  In fact, growing up, my 6th grade PE teacher was the only person who ever made fun of my name—literally booing me when it was my turn to play table tennis (the only game in which I had any level of proficiency).  Whether that seemingly innocent roast at the hands of an adult led to the other kids actively working to keep me from ever getting close to the ball during the basketball unit that started a week later, I’ll never know.  But one thing’s for sure, when saw the basketball heading my way (and me realizing I had to jump into action and put my best foot forward for my team), she wasted no time physically pushing me out of the way and onto the floor sending me sliding perilously toward the open doorway to the main hall.  The only thing that prevented me from sliding out of the gym was my shoulder and the door jamb.  The game didn’t stop. was mildly disciplined, and I was told to sit on the bleachers for the rest of the week.  

Look Argentina, before you start crying for me, know that my lack of sporting ability and the subsequent societal pressure not to even bother isn’t the only thing that makes me an unlikely candidate for the title “athlete”, much less “triathlete”.  I’m clumsy.  I’m not just regular clumsy.  I’m professional-grade clumsy.  I’m walking-on-a-flat-path-in-perfect-conditions-with-no-obstacles-in-the-way-but-still-managed-to-injure-myself clumsy.  I’ve sprained my ankles 5 times (almost 6 if you count my recent episode walking out of a hotel which ended with me toppled over my luggage, legs splayed, with my dress over my head). Knowing all of that, it’s clear why this personal fact is such a surprising one. 

Despite all of this, the triathlon statement is completely true.  Sadly, anyone who has guessed this incorrectly doesn’t even know about my history as a clumsy benchwarmer.  They just know that I don’t appear to be athletic.

Given all of this information, it is probably obvious that the other true statement is about dancing.  That’s another story—as funny as it is humiliating.  So that means the lie is about the parakeet.  I wanted a parakeet.  I wanted to name it Perky. I settled for a parakeet puppet for which my dog didn’t particularly care.

So, that’s the game, but let’s get back to the dating.  

Hinge app.  That’s where I was.  Well, it seemed promising enough.  I had a clever conversation starter.  It wasn’t as charming as I would have hoped.  I did manage to start a conversation with two different guys.  One was nice.  We went on a date.  It was fun.  And then we never spoke again.  The other was a pill.  Carrying on a conversation with him was like pulling teeth—perfectly healthy teeth that did not need to be pulled.  It all started with the Two Truths and a Lie.  Actually, that’s not true.  It all started with a picture of me and an owl, about which he quizzed me on my knowledge of owls and essentially told me I didn’t know anything because he had watched a documentary about owls which made him an expert.  Then it moved to him hating all music I mentioned and getting annoyed when I was able to hold a coherent conversation about the music he liked (which was super obscure and definitely not my bag, but generally a topic I know well regardless of my personal feelings).  I should have ended it there...but, not one to let sleeping dogs lie, I kept responding which led to this:

Random Stranger: You’ve never done a triathlon.

Me: No, that one is true.

RS: Yeah, but you probably just did the short ones.

Me: I didn’t do IronMans if that’s what you mean, but I did 2 Olympic distance and 4 sprints.

RS: Right.  So short ones.  Anybody can do that.

Me: I don’t think that’s necessarily true.

RS: Yeah, well those aren’t even real triathlons.  How long are they?

Me: An Olympic is roughly a 1-mile swim, 25-mile bike ride, and a 6-mile run.  It’s what they do in the Olympics. It’s definitely real.

RS: Yeah, but the sprint ones aren’t.

Me: Yeah, those are shorter, but you still do three events back-to-back.  I think the shortest one I did was a quarter-mile swim, 12-mile bike ride, and a 2-mile run.  It’s still a challenge.

RS: Maybe.  It still isn’t hard.

And there it is.  My accomplishment wasn’t an accomplishment at all. It was just something that anybody can do.  It doesn’t matter that I trained 4 days a week for several months to get to the point of being able to do it or that I know that physically I couldn’t do a triathlon right now without starting over with the training.  Anybody can do that, so I shouldn’t feel good about myself for doing something that I never thought I could or would do.  To add insult to injury, that guy (and usually anyone who has ever made the “Anybody can do that” claim) told me he doesn’t exercise, so he didn’t come from a place of knowledge.  

I wish I could say this was the first time I have had this conversation, but it wasn’t.  I’m amazed by how quickly people are willing to minimize the achievements of strangers.  This isn’t limited to dating, although it happens frequently on first dates (or the first conversation one has before most likely NOT going on a date).  

It isn’t just athletic achievements.  It’s anything.  My job.  My hobbies.  Everything that I can do is apparently no big deal because ANYBODY CAN DO THAT.  And yet...not that many people do it.

What really bothers me about the whole “Anybody can do that” claim is not the fact that it isn’t entirely true.  It’s that by making the claim that anybody can do doesn’t make anybody want to do it.  It has the opposite effect.  It makes people think it isn’t something worth trying or putting the effort into doing.  It’s a passive-aggressive statement with the intent to dissuade someone from trying in the first place.  It encourages mediocrity by making the claim that nothing is extraordinary or worthy of pride.  Nothing is an achievement.  It’s just a thing that anybody can do.  

And, more disturbing yet, immediately brushing off another person’s talent, skill, or achievement as something that “Anybody can do” is just an easy way to quickly chip away at their self-confidence in a bid to get the upper hand.  It is no different than the guy who greeted me by insulting my choice of shirt as a way to trick me into doing whatever I could to curry favor with him.  It wasn’t a winning strategy with this girl, but it’s a trick that must work on others.  He wasn’t the first, nor will he be the last man to insult me upon first meeting me with the claim that it was just an innocent flirting tactic.  

Belittling another person, whether they are a stranger or a friend, is unacceptable.  Starting off a relationship with malicious criticism is dangerous.  While I am the protagonist of my own story, I also played a part in this cycle.  I stuck around for far longer than I should have or even wanted.  Why?  Because I didn’t want to hurt their feelings?  Because I didn’t see that I had anything better to do?  Because I felt some sense of obligation, despite the fact that they were complete strangers?  Maybe.  More likely, I didn’t walk away because being told that I’m nothing special spoke to that awful part of myself that tells me the same thing.  That little voice the creeps up throughout the day reminding me of all of my failings—real or imagined.

But that’s where the triathlons came in.

Just so we are all clear, I didn’t win any races.  I was a turtle.  But I finished, and I liked it enough that I kept training—because the achievement of crossing that finish line made me feel pride in myself that was absent most of the time.  I remember being at the track during a running practice when I realized that the only time of the day when I was consistently nice to myself, when my internal dialogue was positive and encouraging was when I was running.  Extend that to a race, and that meant that for at least 2 straight hours, I was my greatest champion—and sadly, the rest of the day, I was my greatest critic.  That feeling of pride, of being encouraged, and ultimately, of being empowered by my own thoughts carried over into other aspects of my life.  

So, when random strangers tell me my accomplishments are no big deal because “Anybody can do that”, it infuriates me.  Big accomplishments require blood, sweat, tears, and patience.  Diminishing those achievements by telling someone “Anybody can do that” just chips away at their self worth and gives credence to the nagging internal voice that would rather just sit on the couch.  It prevents them from doing all the work that will get them to a place where they CAN do that.

For me, as someone who did compete in 6 triathlons in a single year, being told that “Anybody can do that” takes away the power of knowing I DID do that.  And it was a huge deal.  

And maybe one day I’ll meet someone who thinks so too.