Inspiration

I don't want to be President and I don't want to win a gold medal.

But that does not mean I can't be inspired to do my best, to test limits, to smile with a level of achievement that I could previously only dream of.

Obama is going to be in Palm Springs this weekend, where I'll be visiting my mother. If the President had come to Fairfield, Connecticut in the sixties, I'd still be talking about it. We get a note on our door handle that they're filming in the neighborhood and we wince, but everywhere I've lived other than Los Angeles the residents are thrilled when a movie production comes to town.

They told us anybody could become President, I read it in the "Weekly Reader," but now I just know it's the CEO of the country, and sure, I'd like Mary Barra's paycheck, but I wouldn't want to run GM.

As for the Winter Olympian, other than Shaun White and a few others they're getting their one moment in the sun, before America and the media moves on. Winning a gold medal is akin to having a hit record. A one hit wonder can never give up, he or she believes the next hit is just around the corner. Whereas if you've never achieved the ultimate, never grasped the brass ring, it's much easier to move on and find your real niche, as opposed to being stuck in adolescence or twentysomething fame, trading on it for the rest of your stunted life.

But that does not mean I don't have dreams.

I tuned in at 11 PM on Saturday night to watch Bode Miller lose the downhill. I feared he'd lose, because ski racing is a toss-up, a game of changes, not a rigid gridiron inhabited by constants. But I love Bode because he does it his way. You might think he's a loser, but talk to anybody on the World Cup circuit, he's number one, he's the threat no one can count out, he's just a little bit better than everybody else, maybe because his afternoon playground was the hardscrabble Cannon Mountain as opposed to the video game console.

Unlike in music, you can't make it without practice in the Olympics. Oh, you can push on the bobsled team, but most of these athletes practiced in obscurity to earn their one moment in the spotlight.

And for this I respect them.

I'm not a Ted Ligety fan. He's just a bit too boyish and upbeat for me.

But today's "New York Times" turned me around.

First, there's an incredible sequence utilizing new media that demonstrates why he wins, check it out, even if you've never been skiing, it shows how Ted achieves his edge:

http://nyti.ms/MK0mrY

And there's also a story about... How he was a loser who turned himself into being a winner.

This is why they're our heroes. Because they came up against adversity and won. I was reading the article getting inspired. Because I too know what it's like to put in the hard work when no one's watching so that when you finally get into the arena you shine.

Maybe you've got a coach.

But most of us are on our lonesome. And our parents might provide some bread, but really, making it all comes down to you. What's going to keep us going?

I live for inspiration. It's the one element I can't manufacture. But I know it when I feel it. It has me racing to the keyboard, translating my thoughts into words. I want to dance on the screen to the point where you marvel. And that's not easy to do.

And just like ski racing, you cannot write 24/7. How do you keep yourself going in between performances?

Reading. Living. Waiting for the inspiration to come. Which always happens when you least expect it.

I knew that Ted Ligety railed against the new ski regulations.

But I truly had no idea how much time he'd put in.

That's what separates the winners from the losers. The hard practice.

And those who do it so well don't brag about it, for them it's all about the results. Winning is the sweetest satisfaction.

So I'm sitting in my house, nursing a minor cold, overeating crap, trying to slow down, and I read about Ligety and I want to buckle my boots, strap on my skis, and take dozens, HUNDREDS, of runs when no one is looking.

I truly believe if I do the hard work I will achieve my goals.

That does not mean I don't waver. I get down in the dumps.

But then people like Ligety inspire me and I'm rearing to go.

"Told To Be 'Realistic,' Ted Ligety Defied His Doubters": http://nyti.ms/1kC8jhq


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