Last night I couldn't fall asleep until 1:00 a.m. The thought of rising at 5:00 to play basketball on four hours of sleep was tiring all by itself. The night before had been short on sleep already. On Sunday, Dena and I had played Frisbee and I had a tender Achilles tendon for some reason. Plus, with an LMC session coming this Friday, I was slated to pull 10-hour days all this week including Monday. Which, by the way, was my first day back in the office in nearly a week, meaning that a deluge of e-mails awaited me.
To play, or not to play?
My mind flashed back to my freshman year of college. Determined to make a fresh start from an underachieving high school student, I'd set a goal of getting as many A's as possible. But inexplicably, I showed up for my very first college test having forgotten that we were having a test. One C later, some quick math showed that I'd pretty much need to ace the class for the rest of the semester in order to reach my goal. Still, a few weeks later I found myself staring at my word processor in shock, realizing right around midnight that I'd misread the instructions for the paper due at 8 the next morning. The three hours I'd just put in were wasted. I faced a choice: Start over, powering myself for several more hours through the disappointment and exhaustion consuming me, or surrender my goal and get some sleep.
I decided to sleep.
But then, having walked upstairs, washed up, and standing in my darkened dorm room a foot from bed, I paused and sensed that I'd reached a point of no return. For several seconds I stood still, teetering a bit in my fog of fatigue. And at that moment I simply refused to fail, I made a life-changing choice to succeed. I willed myself downstairs in my pajamas and finished that paper.
I never did get that first B.
And as I type this, on four hours of sleep after 90 minutes of surprisingly good basketball and eleven hours of work, I feel again like a new person.
Life is what we make of it, not what it makes of us.
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