Don’t you just love the Olympics? You can smell the anticipation in the air. So many of us countdown the years until the next event, devour the schedule, mark the sports we want to see, set our DVRs, and watch those amazing athletes perform their majestic dances, totally in their element…*sigh*…

(cue Chariots of Fire music)

I always seem to find myself drawn into them, because quite frankly, watching the best of the best doing what they do best is so mesmerizing that I cannot look away.

My husband cries every time he watches the Olympics (or any sport, for that matter). He’s so overcome with emotion whenever someone wins, especially if it’s the underdog. He can feel all of the blood, sweat and tears that went into that person’s training, and there it is, a gold medal in their hand, completely validating all that they sacrificed in order to obtain it.

It really is mesmerizing.

I love to see people win, but I cannot help but to think of how heartbreaking it must be for the thousands of other athletes who made it to this the event of their lives, but who walk away with nothing but a pat on the back for a job well done but better luck next time.

(No, I’m not a proponent of the whole participation trophy craze, but I still don’t love to see people lose)

Thanks to an email I received a few weeks ago from a dear friend, I am now all too aware of another heart breaker, one that I think you, an Olympic fan, should be too:

For every Olympian who walks the floor at the opening and closing ceremonies in the host city, there are millions of others who trained just as hard, wanted it just as bad, sacrificed just as much (and maybe even more), but who didn’t make it. Some by a long shot, and some by a mere millisecond.

The email I’m talking about was from my sweet friend and Olympic hopeful, Tilita Lutterloh. Her sport? Track and Field. Her Events? Triple Jump and 400 meters. Her email was entitled, A Thousand Thank Yous.

She has graciously (and courageously, because she is a very private person) given me permission to share it with you today.

It reads:

If you are receiving this email, you have either been an active daily supporter and cherished friend, a loud and unwavering fan always present in the Lutterloh Stadium, or even a quiet cheerleader whose positive energy has been strongly felt during this up and down journey towards my Olympic dream.  I’m writing to inform you that my track season ended last week and I did not qualify for the Olympic Trials. I definitely put in my fair share of gut wrenching, muscle fatiguing, teary-eyed training sessions along with weekly yoga, acupuncture, and body alignment work. Many moments of meditation and visualization helped me along the way as well. And while I made progress in some areas of my race, and learned a lot about myself in the process, it just wasn’t enough to reach the goal. I know what areas I need to work on in the future to find my greatness though, so the personal growth and development makes it all worth it! With all that said, an emptiness still remains that will just take some time to fill.  I also can’t seem to shake this feeling of not measuring up to all that you thought I was. I feel like some kind of imposter, con if you will. And for that I apologize.  

My disappointment is two-fold though. Many of you may know the handsome, smart, and insanely talented spoken word poet Eternal Mind…who happens to be my King…who also happens to be my coach! He’s put so much time and energy into my training program and taking care of all my needs as an athlete. I wish more athletes could be blessed with such a hardworking and thoughtful coach as Eternal. And that was my hope…that when I made it to that Olympic stage, Eternal would then get major exposure too…and he could flourish as an elite level coach. I am so deeply sorry that didn’t happen Eternal. I owe so much of my post collegiate track success to you and I wanted so much to repay you in this way. There aren’t enough words to express just how much I appreciate you and your efforts.  

This is definitely not meant to be a sad email! I simply wanted to speak openly and honestly from my heart. So, to the rest of you…you will never know just how much your cheering, texts, online messages, prayers, positive thoughts, listening ears, smiles, thumbs up, and high fives have meant to me. I may not always want to talk about my process, even when you ask; I’m just not that girl who talks about herself and her personal goals and dreams all the time; it doesn’t mean your caring and interest goes unnoticed though.  From the very essence of who I am, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!

“Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”  

Peace and Gratitude,

Tilita

Even in her darkest hour – the end of her Olympic dreams – Tilita speaks so gracefully about her experience. She reminded me not to forget about those I’m now calling the fallen Olympians, the ones who tried but didn’t make it. The ones who will never even have the chance to medal at the event of their dreams.

Does it mean they didn’t try as hard? Hell no. Does it mean they didn’t want it as badly? Definitely no. Does it mean they didn’t sacrifice just as much as the other athletes? Absolutely not.

Through Tilita’s sadness, she chose grace. She found a way to know in her heart that though the end result of her training wasn’t what she had hoped for, all was not in vain. Nothing ever is. No effort is ever unrewarded. It’s up to us to see that. It’s up to us to know that sometimes we get the things we ask for, the things we train for, and sometimes we don’t. And when we don’t, it doesn’t mean that the effort we made in our attempts were for nothing. They were for everything. That was where life was lived. For within every stride forward is an opportunity for growth. And to grow is to live. Life is about the journey, not the end (do you really want to race to that finish?). To hope is to have something to move toward. Things may not always work out as we want them to, but they will always work out as they are meant to. It’s up to us to choose the eyes through which we want to see things: rose colored? Or dark and gloomy?

Tilita, thank you for allowing me to share your very personal, very deep, and very private words. Your emotional strength can serve as an example and lesson to others to always hope and to always strive for something great. But perhaps the greatest lesson after all the effort and all the blood, sweat and tears, is knowing when it’s time to walk away, head held high, heart filled with experience, and eyes sparkling with the knowledge that you did your best.

That just may be the greatest lesson – and require the most courage – of all.

As far as I’m concerned, Tilita, you embody what it means to be a true Olympian, and in my heart, that is what you will always be.

Thank you for inspiring me and all of those around you. Thank you for allowing me to share your story. And most of all, thank you for being you. The world is better and brighter with you in it.

Love, love, love,
Lauren (and – I presume – the rest of your adoring fans)
xxx