“I’m going to throw up,” I heard Tyler yell from his room.
Running in, I instinctively grabbed his wastebasket on my way to his bed, praying I would make it in time. But when I got there, nothing happened.
“Are you ok?” I asked cautiously; to which he moaned a bit before rolling over onto his side again.
“Listen, if you have to throw up, use the wastebasket,” I said, “please.”
As all parents know, the difference between a child vomiting in the “right” or “wrong” place is a good 20 minutes of work (laundry, changing bedding, possible shower, etc). As I walked toward the door, the fun commenced, and he didn’t reach the stated objective in time.
It had been a fun-filled evening of regurgitation up to that point, with my wife taking the first turn praying to the porcelain God, and myself feeling none too well. Parker (our four-year old), however, was prancing around like he didn’t have a care in the world. (Turns out, he didn’t eat the shrimp).
So a touch of bad seafood it was, but we had things to do. The AM would bring Tyler’s first day of a week-long sports camp — something to bridge the gap between his summer camp and the start of school. After relieving himself of the aforementioned shrimp, Tyler had a good night sleep, so I thought we’d have a chance of making it in the morning.
And then there was breakfast.
Wanting to be on the safe side, I made him some white toast and butter, which he happily ate. Then, it happened … again. Up came the toast (luckily into a receptacle this time). Of course, I assumed all was now said and done, and that there’d be no sports camp, but after composing himself for a moment, he looked up at me.
“I’m going,” he said.
“Seriously?” I asked my six-year old in amazement. “You just threw up.” (I’m a master of stating the obvious.)
“I wouldn’t go if it was the second day or the third day, but it’s the first day and I don’t want to miss it,” he said.
I was amazed at the clarity of the logic, not to mention his grit. Oftentimes, the first day is when shirts are given out, teams are created and important details imparted. Knowing he was not contagious, I assented.
From what I have experienced, the kid is on the right track.
Why? Because there have been multiple times in life when you felt off your game, and yet, you still did whatever it was you had to do. Life, as I’ve written before, is not an even-paced run, but rather an obstacle course with long, flat, relatively easy-to-navigate expanses, interrupted by very difficult hurdles. The thing is, you don’t get to pick where and when they appear, and you don’t get to move them if they rise up when you are feeling under the weather. But besting these obstacles is what defines you.
It may be a key meeting where you are to give a presentation, or a job interview, or even something far more subtle, but which you know is important. Do you have the grit to get the job done? Can you appreciate the importance of the moment, get yourself together, and get on with it?
Performing well under less than ideal circumstances is what separates the wheat from the chaff. I can remember talking with my friend Joe Crandall (of Greencastle Consulting) about what the difference between those who made it through Navy SEAL training versus those who didn’t (he did).
“Well, I can tell you it wasn’t the bodybuilder types. Those guys were the first to drop out,” he said.
“Why,” I asked.
“Because they were routine guys — they needed everything to be perfect, exactly the way they wanted it. SEAL training tests just the opposite,” he said. “They throw things at you when you’re at your breaking point.”
And so if Tyler ever winds up becoming a Navy SEAL, besting Hell Week, I can remind everyone who’ll listen that I knew he had it in him when he threw up after breakfast and still went to sport camp. And I’ll also tell them just how proud I was.
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