Born to run...

I never did any competitive sports in school, other than a few recreational softball games and tennis matches.  Even those were connected with my P.E. class.  In other words, I was never on a team competing with other schools for a medal, letter or trophy.  Consequently, I really have never personally known "the thrill of victory" or the "agony of defeat" from any sports perspective.  As I watched the Olympics this year, the media focused in on parents who watched their progeny either win or lose. I could feel their elation and their disappointment as the years of training and sacrifice was culminated in a split second or a single goal.

Team sports are great. You have the entire group to rely on, and if each person does her best, the team may share the victory together. To me, the hardest fought victories are those of the individual contestants - those who compete alone and have no one to blame but themselves should they fail.  And if they win, the victory is theirs alone.

Running has to be lonely sport...and though I have never run a race, I can at least appreciate the agony and/or ecstasy of coming across the finish line.  It takes courage to run by yourself - it's hard on your knees, feet and shins.  You have to love it. Some runners struggle their whole lives just to run a grueling marathon and say they finished. But some, like Eric Lidell, the devout Christian runner who won the 400 meter race in the 1924 Olympics, are born to run.

My beautiful granddaughter may never win a gold medal, or ever compete on the national or world stage, but she is a natural runner. Though it takes everything she's got to mentally gather herself before a race, she runs anyway.

 

 

 

She is courageous. She is fierce...it's how I want all my granddaughters to be...unafraid to try.

Laurel.  I can't run...can't jump either.