Lessons from the High Jump

I have a new hobby of volunteering to work at my school's track meets. Well, it's not exactly a hobby because I get paid to help out, but it is a sacrifice of time and involves the risk of being caught in turbulant Colorado weather. Last week, I measured Shot Put throws. This week, I was manning the High Jump.

Having never been in charge of the High Jump and knowing that I was going to be the only adult in charge at that event, I was frankly a bit nervous going into it all. To combat the anxiety, I reminded myself that all I had to do was ask someone if I didn't know what I was doing. Therein lies the problem: I'm a bit proud...or a lot proud. I don't relish feeling ignorant or helpless, especially in front of students!

Before the meet officially began, I made sure I understood the rules and procedures for my event. Though I was given clear explanations, I still had to figure out little details on my own like, oh, the order in which students go, how to break a tie, how to adjust the mat under the pole, etc. For the most part, though, I was able to relax and enjoy the process once things got rolling.

As I stood watching the students compete, I compared my pride to the pride of the students. It's true that some of them were impressed with themselves and understandably so. A handful of boys and a couple of girls who had the ups of a cat. Yet, there were also a few students who performed terribly. I say that with the utmost respect to them.

With many people watching and those students probably knowing they were not gifted nor skilled in the High Jump, they still tackled the jump fearlessly. Even though their efforts lacked grace and they basically just plowed into the pole, I was touched by observing them. All of them handled their embarrassing attempts with dignity. They seemed to have a mature sense of being willing to fail, something I struggle with at times.

It made my fears about running the event itself seem a bit ridiculous. As I continue to gain experience in life, I hope that I purposefully push myself to do uncomfortable things, things where I may not stand as one of the best. Those times build rich humility and strength of character. I suspect those less-than-stellar high-jumpers are going to do well in life. Their willingness to graciously fail foretells it well.