Losing it

Over the President’s Day weekend, Zdenek and I headed to the Catskills with good friends, Dave and Erica, where we spent a good chunk of our time watching the Olympics with wine glasses in hand. At some point during the moguls, I commented to my cabin-mates that it made me feel like a bit of a loser to see these 18- or 20-year olds shred up the mountain. Dave and Erica were confused by this, so I explained that, at 32, I haven’t achieved even a fraction of what these kids have already done, and I’m not looking to win any Olympic medals soon. I know I've lamented this fact before, but every time I consider my middle-of-the-pack status, I am both humbled and frustrated. Dave and Erica (bless them) were somewhat incredulous, and reminded me that I had run 17 miles that morning while they slept. Erica comforted, “Jodi, next time you feel like a loser, think of Dave and me.”

But it’s not only my lack of athletic superstardom that is humbling. As if I needed further evidence of my mediocrity, today I happened to come across the whereabouts of a few of my grad school housemates: One is now a relatively famous figure in the liberal media. Another is the deputy to a very important political figure. A third is running a large investment fund. And here I sit. The only thing I've ever run is a marathon.

So I called my husband, complaining on this wet and soggy New York day that I felt like one of the smallest people on this island. He asked why, and I explained. Unfortunately, if I was looking for sympathy, I should have gone elsewhere. All I got was a peeved, “Now you’re making me feel bad about myself! You married a loser.” I said, no, he didn’t understand me clearly. I am the loser. “Perfect,” he replied. “Then we’re meant for each other.”

Because I am fortunate to work with a large number of very bright, Ivy League-educated twenty- and thirty-somethings, I decided to pose my question to the larger group. I figured that, between them, they must know dozens, if not hundreds, of members of the literary, political, and business elite. So how do they feel about this? Do they sometimes feel like they don’t measure up? Do they ever feel like losers? (Sure, we have all made out okay, but none of us have dedicated Wikipedia pages or blogs about us that we didn’t write ourselves.)

As it turns out, the unanimous answer was a resounding, “Yes,” followed by the advice, “We just try not to think about it too much.” But how could one not think about it, especially living in New York, home to the largest proportion of over-achievers anywhere on the planet? Next suggestion: “Get out of NYC," which was quickly followed by, "But also avoid DC and LA.” But I’m not moving anytime soon.

Yes, it appeared that despite the almost $1 million in education between them, these Ivy Leaguers couldn’t give me any advice on how to cope with feelings of mediocrity, despite the fact that they deal with these same feelings from time to time. And then came the final piece of advice: “Just have a baby already.”