A ex-colleague once told me about how people are often more afraid of succeeding than failing though we don't often realize it. We tend not to see it because we often look at the worst outcome figuring that is what will have the greatest impact on our lives, changing our lives. But what about the opposite? What happens when we succeed? Things still change - they move forward - they are put in motion and we have to keep going. Keep moving. Failing is easier - it's stops the momentum, a road block, time to reassess. But success? That takes effort.
I submitted the article about Tim today to Crossfit HQ. I like it, I do - for what it is. I feel the passion behind my words, believe them but I still wonder -is it enough. There were several weeks between draft 2 and draft 3. I honestly didn't touch it, barely thought about it other than this looming deadline. And you'll notice there isn't much of a change either. Just an additional paragraph of Tim's thoughts on what the games mean to him but he sent me that weeks ago. I've had those words sitting with me and still I was paralyzed. I realized tonight that in my eyes that article will never be enough no matter how many hours I stare at it, no matter how many times I re-read it and adjust a word here or there. Never enough. So today - I sent it. A few minor tweaks and it was out of my hands. And it felt good. Really good. Action.
And whether they choose me or not it's okay. It's okay because I wrote about a friend, I put words onto paper to form a great piece about another person's journey - a goal I highlighted on this blog a while ago - I wrote another person's story (even if it was through my eyes and not his specifically - still something I struggle with). Through this exercise I wrote - and I shared my writing in this space - with Tim specifically and he will always have that - that reminder of where he was at this moment in time - one day in his quest to compete at the games he might struggle and he can go back and see himself as he is today - the passion and excitement at this point in his journey and no one can take that away from him. From him or me. It exists. And I think at the least, that is enough, I like that it is.
But maybe my words resonate further, maybe his story is only the first of many that I will get to tell over the coming 8 months, maybe. And that's even scarier for me to grasp. I fear it - and because I fear it I know just how much I want it. How hard I'll work for it if they pick me. How much passion is behind me on this quest - after all, it's the things we fear the most that matter to us the most. And this time, I'm fearing that success.
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