Olympic Gold

Or The Storms of Life

Like millions across the globe, I found myself glued to the Winter Olympics these past few weeks. I was captivated by the youthful joy of Alysa Liu gliding across the ice—equal parts gravity-defying athlete and sparkly meteor. Watching her felt like witnessing someone negotiate directly with physics… and win with a big smile.

It carried me back to my own childhood, when I, too, watched the Games with wide-eyed wonder. Gymnastics was impressive, of course—astonishing feats of strength and discipline—but compared to figure skating, it seemed almost… clunky. There’s something about flying through the air on a pair of blades that makes even the most elegant floor routine look like a playground at recess, than a passport to the clouds.

Inspired by Olympic glory (and apparently unaware of reality), I decided at the age of twelve that I would challenge my body in the same heroic fashion. I signed up for gymnastics, brimming with late-blooming ambition—only to be told I was too old.

Too old? At twelve? I wasn’t applying for a senior discount.

As it turns out, if you want a legitimate shot at Olympic gold, you need to start around age three—roughly the time you’re still negotiating with vegetables and learning not to eat crayons. Which means, in many cases, the dream begins as your parents’ dream. They’re the ones waking up at 4:00 a.m., driving through storms to the gym in the dark praying for strength the whole way. Surviving temper tantrums and forgotten leotards. At first, the dedication belongs to them.

But medals aren’t won on parental caffeine alone. They’re forged in the daily discipline—the falls on hard ice, the missed landings, the bruises no one sees. Eventually, the commitment has to shift. It has to belong to the child. And when the stars align—when fiercely devoted parents meet a fiercely determined young athlete—you get Olympic gold.

It’s inspiring. Truly.

For me, however, that’s about where the story ended. My Olympic career concluded before it began. And like most of us, I settled into the ranks of ordinary Americans—no podium, no anthem, no endorsement deals for breakfast cereal.

But here’s the thing: there is beauty in the ordinary. Steering a steady ship through the storms of everyday life—work deadlines, family responsibilities, the mysterious disappearance of matching socks—is no small feat. It may not earn a medal, but it requires endurance, balance, and the occasional heroic recovery. We become the stabilizing foundation of society so that others may fly.

G. K. Chesterton once wrote, “There is nothing so extraordinary as the ordinary family.” A man and a woman and their children—imperfect, persistent, navigating life together. That, too, is a kind of athleticism.

We may never soar under Olympic lights, but we rise each morning. We fall, we get back up. We lace up whatever skates life hands us. And in doing so—quietly, faithfully—we weather the storms.

And honestly? That’s a gold-medal performance in its own right.

“Come to me all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” Matthew 11:28

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Things Worth Slowing Down For

• Books for the Journey- Jim Thorpe: Original All- American by Joseph Bruchac
  Food for the Road– Shepherds Pie

• Sights for the Soul: Cherry Blossoms and Early sping Blooms

• The Latin Lane- Fortes fortuna adiuvat- “Fortune favors the bold” Associated with courage and competive daring.

• Political Potholes- “The nine most terrifying words in the English language are: I’m here from the goverment, and Im here to help” Ronald Reagan

“And that, my friend, is One for the Road.”

• Order The Schoolie Here:

• https://www.suzannecruz.com/the-schoolie