That is what I was thinking as I headed for the shed this morning for my daily row on a C2 rowing machine, it was 4.30am…
Exercise is a daily habit for me and always includes rowing, possibly a 10 kilometre walk with a 30 kilo backpack, or some sort of strength training later in the evening.
My friends often comment how much I must like exercise and how easy it seems for me, and true, for the most part I do enjoy it, but as for it being easy, no way, I tell them it is no easier for me than it is for anyone else.
The key is, I tell them, you need to be motivated to do it.
We have just witnessed the world’s greatest sporting spectacle, the Olympics. Those elite athletes’ train for years, day in, day out, they have highs, and I’m sure there are many lows.
Usually their motivation is to be the best, to represent their country, to bring home the Gold, to make their country feel proud as they stand on the top of the podium, the Nation’s Flag saluting their achievement as the sound of their National Anthem heralds their success…
“But what about the rest of us, where can we find our motivation, our inspiration?”
This morning as I made my way up the pathway to the shed in the pre-dawn darkness, a time of day I usually revel in, I was searching for that motivation, something to inspire me, to push me towards my own goals.
“As I wiped the sleep from my eyes, there it was, a vision of why I am doing this, my inspiration… “
Twelve years ago, TomO, our son, was born almost six weeks prematurely. There wasn’t any medical problem for Janet, my partner, in fact everything progressed as normal, but seemingly the little bloke was ready to take on the world and he wasn’t going to wait a moment longer…
A large contingent of medical staff was assembled, ready to provide the life-support that might be needed, it was a humbling moment, but he announced his way into the world in the usual way and was strong enough to take his first breathe without the assistance of the gathered team.
“Those first moments spent cradled in the security of his mother’s loving arms…”
He spent his first three weeks in the intensive care unit of the hospital, growing stronger every day. This was his struggle, his challenge, and he met it head-on, unflinchingly…
How wonderful that you remember what a miracle life is when you need inspiration.