Reading as a Sport, by Lori Roberts Herbst

 We visited my daughter’s family a couple of weeks ago, and our 8-year-old grandson asked my husband if he wanted to play catch.

“Sure,” Papa said.

 

The grandson paused and looked up at him. His tone turned cautionary. “It’s competitive catch, Papa.”

 

I hadn’t realized there was such a thing as “competitive catch,” but knowing my grandson, it should have come as no surprise. The competitive gene runs strong in that one, manifesting itself in soccer, basketball, and even such activities as hide-and-seek. In the past, I’ve been tasked with timing him on the playground, getting dressed, and once even brushing his teeth.

 

He comes by it honestly. His mother has always enjoyed a good rivalry and has even been known to indulge in the occasional chest bump when her team gets a win.

 

Nothing gets Papa fired up as much as a sporting event. Woe to the person sitting near him at a sporting event who might be cheering for the other team. He’s never engaged in combat (so far), but the snarky side of the usually low-key man definitely makes an appearance.

 

As for me…well, in my younger years, I was known to overturn a game board or two in a display of poor sportsmanship. I like to think I’ve outgrown that stage of life, but maybe it’s more accurate to say I simply no longer play many board games. The rare times I do, it’s with the grandkids, and I’m perfectly content to watch them win. 

 

Now that I’m in my sixties, the competitive edge in me seems to have receded. There are just so many other things to stress over instead. Don’t get me wrong; I still get a thrill if one of my books wins an award—but I also get a thrill when one of my author friends wins, too. 

 

These days, my competitive instincts seem to have turned self-focused—contests with myself. If I wrote 2,500 words today, can I write 2,600 tomorrow? If I completed a sudoku in 5 minutes, can I complete the next one in 4:55? (Living on the edge, I realize…)

 

So, imagine my delight some years back when I discovered the Goodreads Reading Challenge. Reading? Check. Challenge? Check. What could be more perfect for someone of my inclinations?

 

For those who might not be familiar with this little gem of an activity, the premise is simple. You set yourself a goal for how many books you think you can read in a calendar year. Then you read. As you begin a book, you add it to your Goodreads list. When you finish, you click “Read,” and Goodreads adds it as completed in your challenge. They maintain a list of everything you read throughout the course of the year. With every book finished, you get a little adrenaline rush, pat yourself on the back, and move onto the next one.

 

Last year, I set my goal at 60 books and easily surpassed it. This year, I chose 72 (six books per month). I’m currently at 74, with almost 11 weeks to go. (Side note: I thought that was high, but I’ve since come across people whose number of books read extends well into the triple digits. I doubt I’ll ever reach that lofty goal. Anyway, I don’t like to set myself up for failure. I set the bar low so I can exceed expectations.)

 

If you’re currently on Goodreads, I hope you’ll “friend” me so we can follow each other’s progress. If you’re not…what are you waiting for? All the books aren’t going to read themselves!

 

How many books do you read in a year? (Careful how you answer—I may get competitive.)