1 Mile and 4 High-Fives for Rick

There are few things in life more satisfying than a good high five. People should be high-fiving instead of shaking hands, hugging, kissing or greeting people any other way. They are versatile. You can go high or low, go into a clasp, bring it in for the real deal, or even go for ten. They are the ultimate display of friendship, celebration, camaraderie, congratulation, and solidarity. If everyone high-fived more often, the world would be a happier, sunshiny-er place. Crime would stop, and world peace would follow.

The power of the high-five

Rick clearly understand the greatness of high-fives, so as part of my mile for him, he offered to give me more money for high-fiving people. There was a list of people who were "bonuses," and this included runners, people walking dogs, and the dogs themselves. So when I went out today, I was pumped. I decided that my "mile" would be around part of Fresh Pond, because there is usually a plethora of dog walkers and runners. A gold mine, if you will.

I high-fived the first woman I saw when I set out, just as practice. It was glorious. She chuckled, we both got a nice boost, like getting a mushroom in Mario Kart.

After high-fives, you run super fast for about 20 seconds

In all of my excitement, I forgot about the disappointments and embarrassment associated with the dreaded "awkward high-five." So when I got to Fresh Pond, I saw a woman walking her dog. Perfect, I'll ask to pet the dog, high-five it, and high-five the woman too. And that when everything went wrong. First, I scared the bejeezus out of this woman when I practically sprinted into to her yelling "CAN I PET YOUR DOG!?" Seriously, she gasped and jumped and luckily did not experience any sort of cardiac arrest. Despite this she let me pet her dog, which high-fived me. At least, there was hand-paw contact, so I'm counting it. Then the woman apologized to me for being so scared... even though I was the creep and I stood there with my hand out for about 10 seconds, essentially forcing a high-five out of her.

"Yup, I'll just be here. Whenever you feel like slapping my hand is cool with me."

So after that I took off, a little flustered, but no worse for wear. A runner was coming my way. Remembering my success in my practice high-five, I was hopefully. We made eye contact. There was a smile. There was a head nod. I put out my hand and successfully slapped his bicep, since he has no clue I wanted a high-five. He apologized too. Apparently a poorly executed high-five is embarrassing for both parties. The next high-five went pretty much the same way, only I smacked the girl on the hand. At this point, I realized the first good high-five was a fluke, and now I was just harassing people. 

I felt like I had failed for a while. But then I realized there was only so much I could do in this situation. People don't anticipate a high-five from a runner while they are in the zone or walking their dogs. But given the majesty, and likely healing powers, of a well-executed high-five, I think I will be starting a crusade to increase their usage. Rick, I hope you will join in my efforts. 

 

Together, we can turn this:

Into this:

Official count: 4 high fives, 1 bruised ego. 

High fives for all,

Natalie