Crying Like a Baby

I was watching ESPN the other day. This was fairly surprising, actually, as over the summer I pretty much stuck to re-run sitcoms coming on from 5:00 pm – 6:30 pm, So You Think You Can Dance, and Breaking Bad.  But that day, there was a Sports Center segment that took me down. I was the only one in the house, at that point, and when the following clip came on, I didn't just tear up, I balled like a school girl.

If inspiration comes from within, I was lacking it this summer. A regular work week was mundane compared to a fast-paced and dynamic college experience. While my family was great, most of my friends from my hometown were abroad or working elsewhere.  Going to bed at 10:30 pm and waking up at 6:15 am wasn't my bread and butter by any stretch of the imagination. But there I was, driving a 35 minute commute, making money, and eating three square meals a day. This was the best I think I could do this summer. I just cranked it out. It gave me an appreciation for those men and women out there that have the same job, whether low paying or high, for 25 years. I wonder how they do that. I suppose it has a lot to do with commitment, a trait I seem to still be learning. Whether I will be able to draw inspiration from within myself to start a job after I graduate this year, I am questioning. Without anyone to work for but myself, will I be able to get up on my own every day and push through 8 hours at the office? I’m not sure.

But maybe inspiration comes from others. Maybe I work for more than just myself. Maybe I work not because I should but because I must. If a young boy can do everything he can to maximize whatever God gave or didn’t give him, then certainly I should do the same. When he was given the chance to walk, even when others told him that he couldn’t, he took it. When he was given the chance to run, he ran. He didn’t finish first. He finished last. But he finished. And that’s inspiration enough for me. Enough inspiration, that is, to floor me emotionally.

I wonder what chances are being given to me. I’ve been told the world is at my fingertips. Maybe it is. Maybe I should take hold of it by horns. But I can’t do that by my own; I need inspiration. I need a hero. Or maybe I need someone to save. I need not to want to be the best I can be, whatever that is, but to have to be the best I can be.  I need a cheerleader or maybe someone to cheer for. I need someone to show me how to run. Or maybe I need someone to run to. I need someone to love me. Or maybe, I just need somebody to love.