Three years ago, I had a very good chance of becoming an NCAA Division I athlete in three out of the eight varsity sports I played. I was being recruited heavily by several soccer, track, and lacrosse programs. I felt like a celebrity – parading around with a posse that would constantly remind me why a particular university was perfect for me or how I would enjoy the unique experience offered at another. I found comfort in knowing that my pursuit of a higher education would be paid for by an athletic scholarship.
All of that was stripped away when the 180-pound body of an opponent stomped down on my knee with muddy cleats during a soccer game. My entire knee joint was shattered, but the sharp physical pain was nothing compared to the bludgeoning of my mind from thoughts about my future. I was unable to do what I love most: walk onto a field and compete. Scouts who would have begged me to come to their school would not even send a single greeting in my direction anymore. Worst of all, the certainty of being able to pay for college through an athletic scholarship vanished.
Physical recovery was the easy part. However, mentally, I could not convince myself to compete in any athletic event out of fear of disappointment or failure. For three years, the only role I played in sports was as a spectator. This changed when my friend convinced me to help him train for a triathlon in November. Having run marathons and earned medals in swim meets, I figured that the least I could do was instruct him on form and technique, and I had no intention of doing anything more than that. After a month of training, my attitude began to change. I found that the water running through my hair felt just as refreshing as it did when I swam competitively three years ago and the wind blowing against my face felt just as magical as it did when I used to sprint across Clark Stadium on cool autumn Friday nights. Something clicked. I wanted to compete again.
My friend and I learned that SMU offered a Beginning Triathlon course that fulfilled one of our General Education Curriculum requirements. The course would consist of an entire semester of training and an opportunity to compete in a triathlon with the class. We enrolled in that course immediately.
For the next five months, we took part in grueling workouts during the class, followed a strict healthy diet, and spent hours on training individually. There were days when I considered skipping class to study for a test or just because I was too tired to run five miles, but as soon as the thought of crossing the finish line dawned on me, I found myself suiting up for another session of brutal physical activity.
When race day finally arrived last Sunday, our instructor emailed us and, in the interest of safety, told us that we had the option to not compete in the triathlon. The weather forecast predicted temperatures dropping below 50 degrees (which would be even colder after coming out of the swimming portion of the race), winds reaching up to 35 miles per hour, and heavy rainfall. We were all prepared to compete against each other, but none of us was expecting to compete against Mother Nature. My friend and I consulted each other and decided that five months of training would be wasted if we did not accept the challenge and compete anyway.
So at 7AM on the next morning, we found ourselves standing in line by a pool while the rain performed a mellow symphony on the natatorium’s roof. I jumped into the water and began to propel my body forwards. A smile sprung up on my face after realizing that after three long years, I was a competitor again.
The swim itself was fairly easy. However, running out of the natatorium and into the harsh weather was far more difficult. As soon as I mounted my bike, a gust of wind knocked me to the left, causing me to nearly lose my balance and fall into a puddle of rainwater. For the next thirteen miles, I would fight the wind, a slippery road, and a hilly terrain. The last segment of the race was the most difficult because running for four miles seemed impossible after having spent the majority of my energy on swimming and biking. One mile into the run, my friend caught up to me and we began using the drafting technique to get through the last three miles and to the finish line. For one first mile, I led and he ran only a few inches behind me. This technique allowed me to break the wind and make running significantly easier for him. After a mile, we switched positions and I drafted him as he broke the wind in front of me. For the last mile, he was unable to keep up the pace and we separated once again as I sped up ahead of him.
When I signed up for the course, I only set one goal for myself: finish the race. Three years of idleness made me forget how incredible it felt to cross the finish line or watch the time expire on the scoreboard. When that goal was accomplished, I felt resurrected. The awards ceremony was cancelled due to the inclement weather, but I did not fret because winning was never one of my goals. I just wanted to finish.
The next day, my instructor handed me a plaque that had “
I share this story with all of you because my journey taught me several lessons about what sets us apart from everyone else. As leaders, we must all set concrete goals. Prior to executing any phase of our plan to accomplish that goal, we must make adequate preparations. We must also assemble a team, network, or support system that will help us reach our goals. Lastly and most importantly, we must not be afraid of failure. Although it sounds cliché, you should always shoot for the stars. Challenge yourself. Who knows? Maybe an unexpected reward will await you. It took me three years to learn this final lesson, but I hope that with these words, it will only take you a few minutes.
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