I’m reminded of the 2008 Team USA Women’s Track and Field Team. It was the relay race, the 4 X 100, my favorite. The mens team had just dropped the baton in their qualifier and would not be eligible to compete. Later that night, when the womens team came up for their qualifier, surely their race would go more smoothly than the mens, but it didn’t. In the final leg, the runners dropped the baton. They would not be competing for a medal.
Although the race was lost and there was no way the womens team was moving on to the medal round, the runner of the last leg fetched the fallen baton, breathed new life into it and finished the race. There would be no gold medal for her efforts but that one single moment was golden.
I watched the replay of their dashed dreams in a puddle of my tears. At first I wasn’t sure why I was crying--my emotions changed from simple streams of water to a raging river ugly cry, as the tears came harder, faster, longer—I knew my tears were coming from a place deep within and I thought to myself, ‘Why don’t I have that thing that made the runner not give up?’ ‘Why don’t I have the will and strength of character to not give up, no matter what, even when you know you can’t win?
I cried because I was proud of her determination and I was sad at my lack thereof.
Many times I’ve bounced from one diet to the next, crossing the finish line at that magic number; having my moments in time. Sometimes relying on others to push me forward, having no motivation of my own. There were times when I failed, simply quit for one reason or another or just didn’t put in the effort needed to succeed. I’ve had the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat and it’s been much broader than my weight loss efforts, it’s been a pattern in my life, a stronghold, giving up on one’s self is a life of bondage and tedium.
What I learned from watching this year’s Olympic games--winning is in the heart--not in the scorecard--in so much of my life I’ve been the baton, but this year--this time--I am going to be the runner.
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