What's extraordinary?

Congrats to Kristin Armstrong, USA's first cycling gold medalist in the time trial since Connie Carpenter in 1984 and only the second USA cycling gold in history in this event!

So, as you can see I've been watching the Olympics. For someone who hates to watch sports on tv, I'm strangely mesmerized by the Olympics every 4 years. Ever since I was old enough to sort of know what was going on (Mark Spitz, 1972, when I was 7) I've been fascinated by the athletes, the Games, and the whole spectacle. Sometimes they got me in trouble (Mom's couch cushions make great high jump mats, 1976, when I was 11), sometimes they motivated me to go out and do something like take up running again (Mary Decker, 1984, when I was 20), and sometimes they just left me awestruck by a human being's potential (any Olympics, any time). I always find something to ponder, even in the cheesy Olympic Moments, which I hate, even after the Atlanta Debacle, and even after nonstop beach volleyball in primetime this year.

This summer I'm wondering what makes these athletes so extraordinary. Is it their freakishly perfect bodies, seemingly designed by God for their specific pursuits? Is it their sheer will and determination to succeed? Is it their ability to respond positively to the greatest pressure imaginable by giving the performances of their lives? Is it all of these things? And are these qualities the province only of elite athletes?

I've always wanted to do something extraordinary. I thought about climbing Mt. Everest, but I like my fingers and toes too much to leave them on the side of a mountain 13,000 miles around the world. I thought about running a marathon, but really, running isn't my thing. Besides, a marathon isn't so extraordinary any more. Until this summer I never really found that one thing that I could use to challenge my heart, my soul, and my will, and emerge victorious on the other side.

We are all capable of doing something extraordinary; we just don't dare to think we can. Maybe it's being a compassionate lawyer in a profession full of sharks. Maybe it's raising open, honest, loving children. Maybe it's facing an uncertain future with grace and courage. We don't think we can, and often we aren't challenged or forced to summon that courage, gather our wits, and embark on that extraordinary journey.

The Team Dream 2009 ride is my Olympics. It's my chance to accept the challenge, to stand up and say "I will." I will do something about lung cancer. I will embark on a journey that scares the hell out of me. I will look at that mountain before me, take a deep breath, feel the fear, and start the climb to the top.

Then maybe, just maybe, I will feel extraordinary.