I enjoy reading for one purpose and finding something that fits another purpose. That happened recently when I was doing some work for an upcoming presentation I have to do. I was reading a book about resilience. Resilience is an important theme in our current world. Resilience is always an issue when an individual or group experiences a tragedy or some other unfortunate occasion. The question is whether the person or group will bounce back or whether the unfortunate situation will do them in for good? The resilient person or team bounces back or recovers.
The book I was reading is by two physicians, Steven M. Southwick and Dennis S. Charney. The book title is descriptive: Resilience: The Science of Mastering Life’s Greatest Challenges. My two co-authors of our recent book include some material from Southwick’s book, so I was double-checking some information.
Instead of sharing a good deal of information about resiliency, I want to share a story the authors used near the end of their book. I found the story touching. The story takes place at a Special Olympics’ race. The usual suspects were found in the race, i.e. Downs’ Syndrome kids, etc. Although those are always special, there was nothing special in the story as I read it. That is, nothing special until the ending.
At the end of the story a girl, who had run and already finished the race, confronted the boy who had just finished the race. The boy had been significantly slower than anyone else. One response would have been sorry for the little guy. For a runner, he was a pathetic sight. The boy had a metal brace on his right leg. I call that a handicap, but I can imagine the little guy did not see it that way. For him it was just life.
As he crossed the finish line, the girl began to tease him for finishing last---and so far out of it. Ridicule comes easy for those of us who have enough or more than enough. We might have enough talent to win or place well. We might have enough money, brains, power, etc. If we have enough, we don’t have to look ridiculous or finish last. Humiliation is not our lot in life. I can imagine the little guy has had to face some or all of this. But maybe not?
The story ends with a powerful line from the little boy. In the face of the teasing from the girl, the boy replies, “Tha, tha, that’s Ok,” he stuttered, as he faced the girl and looked her in the eye. ‘I came in.’” (316) Now we find out the little guy also stutters! He is doubly handicapped! But his answer in the face of the teasing is superb. We can learn from the little teacher. Let’s see what all he has to teach.
He must have known, as he stood at the beginning of the race that he had no chance to win. The was no way he was going to be first across the finish line; maybe he knew in the beginning he would be last. How many of us might never have gone to the race? How many of us “normal” folks would look at the race from a very different perspective? I have run in many, many races and I always knew I would not finish last. I knew I would never have to explain myself to some little girl at the finish line.
But the little guy took off and ran the race. I might think he is pathetic, but I bet it never occurred to him to see himself in that guise. In his eyes he was a participant---maybe even a runner. I doubt it ever occurred to him that he might not make it. That was his challenge. And meeting that challenge is revealed in his answer. Of course, he did not think he would win the race. The question for him was whether he could even make it to the end?
His succinct answer---even though it is drawn out by the stuttering---is brilliant. “I came in.” Three words that says it all. I love that awareness and that answer. “I came in.” This is a lesson all the “winners” in life should also learn. Probably all the winners in life know at some point, winning will no longer be possible. At some point, others will be faster, stronger smarter, richer, etc. At some point in life, we all will be in a race that we know we can’t win. Some of us will no longer go to the starting line. We will have a ton of excuses, but any one excuse that keeps us on the sideline means we have given up on ourselves and life.
I want to remember the little guy’s courage, determination and grit. I want to celebrate both his effort and his achievement. I find his life’s lesson very spiritual. Life is meant to be lived. There will come to be challenges. We will experience handicaps and hardship. We will need to develop some resiliency. We will have to bounce back. But run we must. Maybe finally some folks will make fun of us.
One answer suffices. I want to be able to say, “I came in.” I did it. That is what I want to say about my life at the finish line: I came in. I ran the course. I came in.
The book I was reading is by two physicians, Steven M. Southwick and Dennis S. Charney. The book title is descriptive: Resilience: The Science of Mastering Life’s Greatest Challenges. My two co-authors of our recent book include some material from Southwick’s book, so I was double-checking some information.
Instead of sharing a good deal of information about resiliency, I want to share a story the authors used near the end of their book. I found the story touching. The story takes place at a Special Olympics’ race. The usual suspects were found in the race, i.e. Downs’ Syndrome kids, etc. Although those are always special, there was nothing special in the story as I read it. That is, nothing special until the ending.
At the end of the story a girl, who had run and already finished the race, confronted the boy who had just finished the race. The boy had been significantly slower than anyone else. One response would have been sorry for the little guy. For a runner, he was a pathetic sight. The boy had a metal brace on his right leg. I call that a handicap, but I can imagine the little guy did not see it that way. For him it was just life.
As he crossed the finish line, the girl began to tease him for finishing last---and so far out of it. Ridicule comes easy for those of us who have enough or more than enough. We might have enough talent to win or place well. We might have enough money, brains, power, etc. If we have enough, we don’t have to look ridiculous or finish last. Humiliation is not our lot in life. I can imagine the little guy has had to face some or all of this. But maybe not?
The story ends with a powerful line from the little boy. In the face of the teasing from the girl, the boy replies, “Tha, tha, that’s Ok,” he stuttered, as he faced the girl and looked her in the eye. ‘I came in.’” (316) Now we find out the little guy also stutters! He is doubly handicapped! But his answer in the face of the teasing is superb. We can learn from the little teacher. Let’s see what all he has to teach.
He must have known, as he stood at the beginning of the race that he had no chance to win. The was no way he was going to be first across the finish line; maybe he knew in the beginning he would be last. How many of us might never have gone to the race? How many of us “normal” folks would look at the race from a very different perspective? I have run in many, many races and I always knew I would not finish last. I knew I would never have to explain myself to some little girl at the finish line.
But the little guy took off and ran the race. I might think he is pathetic, but I bet it never occurred to him to see himself in that guise. In his eyes he was a participant---maybe even a runner. I doubt it ever occurred to him that he might not make it. That was his challenge. And meeting that challenge is revealed in his answer. Of course, he did not think he would win the race. The question for him was whether he could even make it to the end?
His succinct answer---even though it is drawn out by the stuttering---is brilliant. “I came in.” Three words that says it all. I love that awareness and that answer. “I came in.” This is a lesson all the “winners” in life should also learn. Probably all the winners in life know at some point, winning will no longer be possible. At some point, others will be faster, stronger smarter, richer, etc. At some point in life, we all will be in a race that we know we can’t win. Some of us will no longer go to the starting line. We will have a ton of excuses, but any one excuse that keeps us on the sideline means we have given up on ourselves and life.
I want to remember the little guy’s courage, determination and grit. I want to celebrate both his effort and his achievement. I find his life’s lesson very spiritual. Life is meant to be lived. There will come to be challenges. We will experience handicaps and hardship. We will need to develop some resiliency. We will have to bounce back. But run we must. Maybe finally some folks will make fun of us.
One answer suffices. I want to be able to say, “I came in.” I did it. That is what I want to say about my life at the finish line: I came in. I ran the course. I came in.
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