I remember the first time I tasted the bitter sweet (or was it just bitter?) taste of humble pie. My first roommate in college. It was one room. 3 beds. A bunk bed and one in the corner. The one in the corner was taken. That just left the bottom bunk (the one I wanted) and the top bunk. I’ve never actually met anyone that was bigger than me. I figured I could maybe use that to my advantage when asking for the bottom bunk. And then in walked my new roommate. 6ft 20, shovels for hands, wider, thicker, stronger. I think his muscles had muscles. I took the top bunk.
I think I need to eat humble pie form time to time. It helps. Here I am, lifting, thinking I’m doing good. I’m not the best, but you know what, I was thinking I was doing alright. When someone else is lifting in the gym, I secretly count the weight plates and see how much they’re lifting (I’m bad at math and it takes time sometimes) and then compare it to what I’m doing. Usually it makes me secretly feel I’m doing better.
Then, recently, someone who was thinner than I, a bit shorter than I, was lifting more than I. Here I was thinking I was doing pretty good. Then I saw what he was doing. Knocked me down and fed me humble pie.
So, what is the recipe for humble pie? A dash of deflated arrogance, the crust is made up of reality, chop up a nice serving of self reflection, a smidgen of cinnamon, and season to taste. Serve it up nice and fresh when you’re on top of a high horse, it will bring you right down.. but in a good way I think.
But one things for sure, humble pie taste a lot better than a foot in the mouth any day.