Strickland Syndrome

 

"Far better is it dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure . . . than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much, because they live in a gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat."

 -- Theodore Roosevelt

It goes without saying that failure is part of life, but most people never experience full-fledged failure because they never committed themselves – mind  body, and spirit – to their goal in the first place.  And it is easy to understand why.  Far easier is it to stand on the sidelines and say, "Well, if I had tried as hard as him (or her), I would have done just as well or maybe even better."  That's the definition of cowardice, in my book.

I call this "Strickland Syndrome," named appropriately after my sophomore year college roommate.  Anyone who saw him, or watched him swim, could tell this guy "had the goods." Vested with all the physical skills one needs to be great in the sport of swimming – tremendous size, a beautifully efficient stroke, and good “feel” for the water – Strickland never reached his potential (and that's putting it mildly).  Part of the reason for this was Strickland suffered from an inflated view of his own "talent."  Sure, he had some skills, but not nearly enough to coast through practice every day and still win multiple All-American honors.  The other reason for Strickland's underachieving was his unwillingness to give a damn.  Apathy was the comfort blanket, which allowed him to "pack it in" when times got tough, both in training and in the biggest meets.  As a result, he had zero tolerance for pain.  Zero.

I've always been the opposite kind of person, the one willing to sacrifice or endure pain.  This approach, however, is not without fraught.  Most people can't handle my intensity or single-mindedness of focus; sometimes my wife is even taken aback, this after five-plus years of living together.  But I've come to expect this from people.  In college, some of my teammates laughed at me, called my goals "outrageous," and ridiculed me for my subtle self-motivating tactics.  Whatever.  The clock never lied, and I learned to let my performances do the talking.

More recently, I've learned that life is full of "has beens," "back in my day-ers," "just wait till your my age-ers," and "if I had your talent-ers."  Yeah, guess, what?  I don't give a shit, and I would have kicked your ass back then, too.  Go home, and tell yourself whatever you must to fall asleep.  And sleep well, for tomorrow, when you roll over, I will have already been hard at work for several hours.

I will end this post the same way I started it -- with a quote.  "Anything in life is worth over doing, moderation is for cowards."  Thank you to our Navy Frogmen, and their families, for their service.