It's Hard to Breathe

I watched part of the movie "Miracle" while I ran a few miles on the treadmill today. I am starting training for a half marathon next week and wanted to get a few practice miles in before then. I have had very little motivation to run lately, but after eating my children's bag of popcorn at target and enjoying way too many Tim Tam cookies- I knew that Beckett's nap time gave me a great excuse to get moving.

As I ran, I watched as the 1976 US hockey team lost their first season game against the Soviet Union, 6-0. After the game, coach Brooks made his team stay behind and condition. They skated long after the rink closed, skating in the dark, bodies burning in pain obeying a coach determined to challenge them and make them champions. I ran and watched as one team member yelled his name and shouted that he played for the USA. A big step, indicating that he was an asset to this team, not an independent player from some other organization. The coach was waiting for that. He excused his team from the ice, and I gulped through broken breaths and a little bit of tears more determined to not give up on my simple run. It was hard to breathe, but I felt like I had wings.

I have enjoyed the past week of Winter Olympics. I have had several broken breath moments and tear streaked faces as I've learned more about the athletes competing. Sometimes I find myself living in the past, wishing I was still young enough to be one of those athletes walking in with team USA during opening ceremonies. Knowing that option doesn't exist, my focus turns then to my children- all of which seem totally uninterested in anything happening in Vancouver right now.

So I guess I resort to success on the small scale of my life. I am happy to get motivation from the great stories of Evan Lysacek, Lindsey Vonn, Apollo Ono and the 1976 USA hockey team. I know that Sonny and I won't be the best in all life races we run, but we will have experiences that make it hard breathe, and that's a good thing.