Every time I allowed myself to think I had arrived, I hadn’t. Every time I called myself a failure, I wasn’t. Every moment – each high and each low – was simply a step on the path to this moment. Period.
A little over 3 years ago I wrote a post titled, Choose Harder Things. Going to the gym had become “too easy.” I was just showing up. I would do the minimal workout that would allow me to say that I had worked out that day. I was being consistent, but I wasn’t being consistently intense. Writing felt that was to me this morning.
It was as normal as any conversation I’ve ever heard. And not. As I walked by their yard, I smiled at the Dad. I said nothing, but I hope he could see in my face the joy I experienced in that moment. I hope he saw the feeling of inspiration in my smile, in my eyes. I have a feeling he has seen that look before.
“Never again clutter your days or nights with so many menial and unimportant things that you have no time to accept a real challenge when it comes along. This applies to play as well as work.”
I’m sure there are many things my children will learn from their track and field experience, but here are the three that kept running through my brain over the weekend.
I spent 18 hours at an invitational track meet this weekend. Most of my children’s races lasted less than 70 seconds. That gives a guy a lot of time to think.