Succesful Failure Pt.2 - Persistence

In my last post (Successful Failure - Part 1) I introduced the idea of failure as an ally.  It is possible to handle failure successfully.  In these next few posts I intend to lay out how.  

"Even if good people fall seven times, they will get back up. But when trouble strikes the wicked, that's the end of them." (Proverbs 24:16)


Heavily favored, Lolo Jones held a commanding lead eight hurdles deep into a ten hurdle 100 IM race at the Beijing Olympics in 2008.  She was seconds from securing a spot atop the podium.  Then she clipped the ninth hurdle.  Her speed thwarted and her rhythm off, she finished seventh.  A devastating defeat, she crumbled to the ground in tears, pounding the track in disappointment. On the biggest stage of her life, Lolo failed.

Her chance at redemption would have to wait.  Track and field athletes compete in relative obscurity with the exception of a quadrennial moment in the spotlight when the world is captivated by the Olympic Games.  As the flame was extinguished in Beijing, London was farther away in time than distance.  Jones spent four years in the shadows, striding over countless hurdles, on the track and off. A year ago she had spinal surgery, uncertain of her future as an athlete.  She poured herself into recovery and won the US Open in January.  Still her performances were inconsistent.  She placed third in the US Olympic Trials, just squeezing onto the team for the London Olympics.  Doubts persisted, memories of failure lingered.  She traveled to London as an underdog.  But she did travel to London for a second chance at a medal.

I wrote all that before the London Olympics, part of a devotional for a website early in August.  Since then, the sixteen days of the London Olympics have come and gone.  The results are in.  Lolo Jones has had her chance at redemption. In her semi-final heat, a heat in which the top two advance, she placed third.  The next two fastest times among all the heats were also given a place in the finals, and Lolo had to wait anxiously to see if she qualified.  She squeezed into the finals and then ran the best race of her season crossing the finish line fourth.  Fourth.  One tenth of a second away from a medal. 

Two days before her final, the New York Times ran a piece critical of Jones for media over-exposure unequal to her athletic accomplishments.  Leading up to the games, she had been in numerous commercials and on a number of magazine covers, including two I receive – Time and Outside.  This while Dawn Harper and Kellie Wells, the two American hurdlers who qualified ahead of her, had received scant media coverage.

Jones, hurt by the criticism, responded to the article the day after her defeat in the finals on Good Morning America.  “I wasn't even supposed to make the Olympic team.  The U.S. Olympic team -- they counted me out. I made the team. Then they (said), 'She's not even gonna make the final.' I made the final. I went from eighth place to fourth place. I just hope my story gives somebody hope. I didn't walk away with the medal or run away with the medal, but I think there's lessons to be learned when you win and there's lessons to be learned when you lose."

And this, I think, is why we gravitate to Lolo Jones.  Marketability is not exclusively tied to athletic achievement (though Gabby Douglas will certainly benefit immensely from the gold around her neck).  Sometimes the story we respond to is the story of perseverance and character.  I am intrigued by Jones not because she is the best, but because she perseveres through adversity.  I saw her fall in Beijing.  It impresses me that she is still at it, four years later trying for gold against all odds.  

Perfection does not inspire me as much as persistence does.  Effortless success is disheartening.  I can't relate to that.  I need to see at least a bit of struggle to validate the accomplishment. I don't speed down the track with elegance and grace. I've clipped many hurdles and stumbled toward defeat.  After such failure I need the encouragement to try again.  It helps to see Lolo Jones get back on the track.   And after finishing fourth, it is good to hear her say that there are lessons to learn when you loose.  Those are lessons I have ample opportunity to learn.  Her story gives me hope.  Standing at the finish line, gasping for breath, hands on my knees, I look to the scoreboard to see that I have come up just short of my goal.  One tenth of a second from reaching the podium.  Failure.  At that point, there are plenty of voices suggesting that I throw in the towel.  Jones invites me to get back on the track, train hard, try again.  

She says she plans to try again in Rio four year from now.  Who knows what 1400 days will hold.  Injury or age may sideline Jones from getting back to Olympic stadium.  But she is a model of persistence.  Not satisfied to just run in the Olympics, she aims to medal.  Each time she fails, she picks herself up again.  There are still more hurdles to cross.

Whispering the Glory of God

I’ve just returned from a four mile run.  I am one of those who run for pleasure.  I find a hard sweat therapeutic.  Fresh air clears my lungs and my mind.  The accompanying endorphins are a mildly addictive stimulant - this introvert gets downright gabby after a good run.  It’s good for me – not just physically, but mentally and emotionally.  It makes me a better person.

Unfortunately, it has been a difficult season for running.  A severely sprained ankle at the tail end of summer and a mysterious ache in my lower back in the thick of winter have sidelined me for most of the last few months.  Only now am getting back to some light running.  I didn’t realize how much I missed it until I logged a few miles.

I live in a neighborhood well known for its network of paved trails -  trails that snake their way behind homes, through woods and wetlands, along streams that open into occasional ponds, touching the Seneca river for a moment.  Each season paints these vistas with a new color palette, beautiful in its own right.

Today, the paintbrush was loaded white.  As I left my house, snow was just starting to fall, each flake a work of art, unique in design, intricate in detail, an expression of God’s creativity.  I know this from elementary school science lessons and art projects involving folded paper and scissors.  Truth is, this is beauty that will go largely unnoticed.  These mini ice sculptures are too many and too fragile for my appreciation.  God makes them unique for his own pleasure. 

Here in the flurry I don’t notice the flake because I am caught up in the squall. These tiny works of art are being flung from the sky with excess.  Snow is falling with fury.  These are large, heavy flakes, obscuring my vision and coating all that is solid in a suit of white.    And here I am, running through this wintery blast with exceeding pleasure.  I am watching the painter as he works his canvas, transforming the dull browns of winter thaw into beautiful white.  Gradually, the landscape is being coated.  This is a wonderful moment to be running.  Like I am watching something special.

As I run, the heat of exertion and the cold of the atmosphere are entwined in perfect balance – a cooling sweat.  Mouth open with heavy breathe, I get a steady patter of flakes on my tongue, a delightfully cool moistness.  The sound is near silence.  Only the barely audible tap of collision between flake and this body in motion.  As I round the pond that my house abuts, I pass two geese strutting with majestic necks and deliberate steps, their bellicose honking silent in the stir.  Even they won’t disturb this moment with unnecessary noise.  Seems they save their voice for the hours before dawn when I am trying to sleep.  Here, in this moment, the world is in whisper, all voices in agreement – creation declaring (in a hush) the glory of God.


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