Apolo Ohno and a New Quest

I love to watch the Olympics.  There is something about the whole world coming together to compete in the games that intrigues me.

I was watching short-track speed skating the other night, and NBC showed a bit on Apolo Anton Ohno, the United States poster boy for the Winter Games.  After winning a gold medal the 2006 Olympics in Torino, Ohno decided it was time to call it quits and spent his days enjoying the celebrity lifestyle that comes along with being an international icon.  He participated on the show "Dancing With The Stars," and he and his partner won the competition.  Shortly after, in an airport, a man recognized Ohno—as "that dancer" from the show.  A TV dancer is a far cry from the identity that a Olympian wants to have, and this propelled Ohno to return to speed skating one more time this year in Vancouver.  The montage of his training program that followed clearly demonstrated Ohno's unwavering dedication to reaching his fullest potential.  And he said something that I've been chewing on since then:

"Before you go to sleep each night, ask yourself this question:  'Did you do everything you could today to be at your very best?'"

I'm not exactly sure what I am, or what I want to be, recognized for.  But I have dreams that are presently unfulfilled.  I have goals that have thus far gone unaccomplished.  I'm not willing to let it stay that way.  Starting tonight, as my head hits the pillow, I will begin to ask myself Ohno's question.  It's going to be really, really difficult to honestly answer "yes" every night.  But I'm going to ask it.

Defining the Improbable

The name of my blog comes from a quote by Oscar Wilde:  “Man can believe the impossible, but can never believe the improbable.”

When I was young, my dream was to play first base for the Philadelphia Phillies.  There is a picture of 3-year-old me, dressed in a #10 Darren Daulton Phillies uniform, complete with stirrups.  When the time came, my dad took me outside with a glove and a ball to have a catch for the first time.  He stood no more than a few feet away from me and told me to throw him the ball.  I threw it...and it landed a good 90 degrees to the right of Dad's glove.  Through the dismal hitless streaks and incessant struggles to "keep my eye on the ball" during my Little League years, the dream was unwavering.  I would stand in my front yard with a bat, visualizing the time in the future when my Phils were facing off against the evil Yankees in Game 7 of the World Series and I would come to the plate in the bottom of the 9th with the bases loaded and my boys down by three.  In these fantasies, it is customary to work the count full before putting the ball in play, so I obliged, and after three balls, two strikes, and a couple of foul tips to the backstop, the pitch would come in, a fastball, and I'd swing away, hear the crack of the wood, and start running.  The ball sails further and further as the left fielder races to the track, to the wall, HE LEAPS...AND IT'S OUTTA HERE!!!

Despite improving sufficiently enough to become a decent high school player, I just wasn't blessed with the kind of natural ability it takes to play at the professional level.  My dream was impossible.  Deep down inside, I knew this, but my childlike faith never allowed me to question my reality.

I will admit to still having the same fantasies from time to time, but my dreams and goals have changed significantly since I finally came to grips with the impossibility of my Major League career.  My goals now are not impossible; in fact, they are extremely possible when combined with dedication, hard work, and unshakeable perseverance.  In truth, though, the idea of me possessing all those qualities long enough to achieve my dreams is improbable.  My life now does not reflect my goals.  It would take a considerable lifestyle change in order to truly become who I want to be. 

Isn't this the way it is with all of us?  There is so much ordinary in the Western world that we so often abandon our dreams and settle for the mundane.  As long as it is comfortable to be an American, few of us will make the daily sacrifice that it takes to step up to the plate and swing away.  Well, the idea of settling repulses me.  I don't want ordinary.  I may never do anything that makes me a celebrity, but we can all reach greatness in the areas God created us to.  I want extraordinary.  I want the improbable.