I haven’t written in a while. Not just here on the blog (to those who followed me, and have missed me, I am deeply sorry), but NOT AT ALL. It just seemed like the prolific words which flowed off of my fingertips simply vanished. Nothing.
Ok. Well, maybe some of it was intentional. I needed to keep some thoughts private. And you know me – once I start writing, there ain’t much I keep private.
With that being said, something did come to me tonight.
Like most of the world, I have been watching the Olympic Games in Sochi. Not that I am a huge winter sports fan, or anything like that. I mean, I grew up in South Florida, for God’s sake! I still can’t handle the “cold” of Atlanta! But, there is something about watching people put on the uniform for their country and “go for the gold” – even if their “gold” is the simple fact that they are in Sochi – and not at home.
And while it is always lovely to see someone win, I am particularly taken by those athletes who don’t. Those who falter, yet some how manage to pick themselves up and go on.
During the men’s figure skating short program, one such event happened to a US athlete, Jeremy Abbott. He went up for a jump, missed the landing, fell on the ice, skidded about 10 feet and SLAMMED into the wall. The poor man was obviously in pain. He laid on the ice for a few moments, clutching his ribs – as his music continued playing. When he got up off the ice, he appeared to be skating towards the judges to withdraw. You could see the process running through his mind. As his music continued playing. But, then the most amazing thing happened. The audience started cheering him on, encouraging him to continue. And he did. He finished his program. Oh sure, his scores weren’t great, but he finished. And the next night, he set a personal best for his long program.
He finished. In the face of injury. In the face of the humiliation of lying on the ice in front of the world. He finished.
Those moments were repeated time and time again during these past two weeks. Snowboarders who fell from the top of the half-pipe getting back up for their next run. Bobsled teams flipping their sleds getting back in for the next run.
How many of them wanted to say, “I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m done” and call it a day?
There’s a lesson for me to be learned in this. To get back up. To not let that fall, that setback, that disappointment, keep me down. It is far to easy for me to say, “I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m done, and have no intention of ever doing it again so I won’t get hurt (disappointed, etc.) again.” Especially when it seems like every time I set foot on to the proverbial ice, I slam into the wall.
Maybe the next time it will be a personal best.