So, tonight was my last night of Flying Irish, and I was reflecting on how great it was to find that group. They are genuinely nice people - actually all the running groups I have met have been. There might be some competitive edge there, but it is healthy, and people are just happy for one another to succeed. It is really positive, and motivating to be around. Same with Serps, and Swifts, of course. I am consistently humbled by how hard they work, and the lengths they will go to, often for little shot at glory beyond personal victory and sense of achievement.
And then I got thinking about sport in general, and how it feeds the soul and how much it can actually prepare us for life's greater challenges (I agree with JM that it is Real Life drama.) Under what other circumstances would people put themselves through actual physical pain other than sport, by choice? (Okay, maybe some strange people might do so in other circumstances, but that is not really the norm. Or probably circumstances I would feel comfortable discussing here!). Either way, the fact is, sports involve a lot of pain and anguish, a lot of pushing bodies to the limits, actual breakdown in many instances. Undoubtedly there are countless images Google could find us in nanoseconds showing frustration, pain, tears, twisted faces, even blood and guts, all associated with sport. Non-athletes would never get it, and might wonder why people would choose to put them through some of these states, and possibly with good reason. Most times there isn't even an award involved!! Most of us aren't professional, and would never even consider trying to be. (I love those NCAA commercials: 'And 99% of us will be professional in something other than sports'). We just DO it, for a million reasons: the thrill, the adrenaline rush, the personal gain, the competitive spirit, the love of the game. We love the feeling we get before, during, and after. Not an event has gone by - running, skiing, game involving some ball - that I can remember when I didn't have butterflies and at some stage thought to myself, 'Why do I do this? I hate it, I wish I could just quit and be a normal person, just okay to go out for a run.' But part of me feeds on that - all those emotions are what make it what it is, and make me love it. Even the horrible ones, and the seconds that go by when I think to myself, 'I am not good enough to succeed at this.'
Those seconds are the ones that prepare us, and challenge us, for real life. Sport is preparing us for real life. I just think about how much we can learn through sport - the anguish, the losing, the winning, the sportsmanship, the camaraderie. There are so many lessons, and I love to think about how much I have learned about myself and the world around me because of my involvement in sport. Of course, that isn't to say it is for everyone, but everyone must have those same aspects in their lives that make them run a similar gamut of emotions - butterflies, elation, disappointment, fear, achievement, victory. It is all of those feelings that make us want to succeed and push forward.
So at the same time, I am thinking about how the last six months have progressed. Never in a MILLION years would I have foreseen it would look now like it really does. When I got here, I had no hope for Dad's survival - I know, that is a horrible thing to say!! But things were THAT bleak, that I just didn't see it being possible. I didn't for a second think I would be leaving here with him to come back to, and I didn't think he would have had a chance at recovering how he has. It really is incredible. And I think it is down to the human spirit that lives within him. I have a feeling (though I haven't asked him) that he definitely went through a period (that could have been quite long) where he also thought he was nearing the end, and was done for. That the situation was grim (duh, cancer with no treatment options??) and there was no reason to get one's hopes up.
I don't know what it was that turned his mindset around, or if it even could have been one thing - likely not. But the fact is, he is living up to one of the greatest challenges that can be put in front of anyone. He is laughing in the face of his ailment, and he is succeeding. It might not be for years, or even months, but he has turned his attitude around and brought himself out of the terminal 'two-week' existence he was placed into, and he is doing better now than he has for ages. I don't know if it is down to sport - I doubt he has thought of that - but I am certain it is down to telling himself, 'Dammit, I am tougher than this. I am not ready to go down, I haven't reached my limits.' That is how Dad is. That is how challenges prepare us - we lose some battles, but most of us get back out to fight the war, to persevere, and to prove to ourselves, and everyone around us, that we aren't weak and we aren't giving in.
When we were at Grandma's burial, on a lovely day, in Santa Rosa, there were just a few of us - 15 maybe - gathered at the gravesite where her ashes were to be buried alongside Grandpa. I was a wreck, and I sat and held Dad's hand. He tapped me and pointed to a headstone about 25 yards away. All it said, in big letters, was 'Attitude is Everything'. And he said, 'See? Attitude IS everything.' That is how Dad is.
Life is uncertain, and we never know how long we are going to get to be with the people we love. I am leaving next Friday trusting that I will see my dad again. Of course, I never know for sure. But I have to leave thinking that I can do this, I can face this challenge - he has to too, and we will march forward, for as long as we can. And to this, and the other challenges I have faced and will face in the future, I say, 'I am good enough to succeed at this.'
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