My olympic best

The road to happiness lies in two simple principles: find what it is that interests you and that you can do well, and when you find it put your whole soul into it - every bit of energy and ambition and natural ability you have. John D. Rockefeller

The studio lights were dimmed. The walls were painted aqua blue, the ceiling deep as midnight. Ceramic fish hung along the walls, swimming around our heads. Above our heads, a tiny disco bowl spun, sparkling the walls with tiny dots of light that ripped around us like waves underwater. I felt immersed in a sea of warm colour.

In front of us the lights on the giant sound board blinked red and green and yellow and blue. On the other side of the giant panel of glass, C.C.'s son, T. stood, earphones tightly pressed against his head, singing.

He's talented. The music he's recording is all original. Stunning in its complexity. It's gritty scenes of life a surprising note of confidence from one so young. He's cutting a CD. His first. It's a big step for a twenty-year-old. A big opportunity. He won it at a band competition earlier this year. It's another leap forward in his dream to live his life as a musician.

One of the sound technicians is a woman. Early twenties. Dark hair with a streak of blond shot through. While we're waiting for T. during a break, I ask her how she came to work in the studio. Where once her face was dark and brooding, her demeanour bored, she suddenly lit up like the lights on the sound board in front of her. "I was enrolled at college to take PR," she told me. "It just didn't feel right and then I saw an ad for this nineteen week course to become a sound tech." She wraps her arms around her shoulders as if to give herself a giant pinch. "I can't believe I get to live this life everyday doing this." And her hand sweeps away from her body to include the room and studio on the other side of the glass. "I love it."

Amidst the dour commentary on the lack of Canada's Olympic medals, athletes from across the country are living their dream today in Beijing. Doing what they love, giving it their best, they are competing against other world class athletes for their chance to win a tiny gold and silver and bronze medal. It's a harsh competition. A place where one slip of attention, one tiny miss of one one hundreth of a second can mean the difference between glory or despair.

But the real competition is in their work to get to where they are. Against what appears at times to be insurmountable odds, these athletes have spent countless hours in gyms and in or on the water, training and training, doing what they love. We, their public, do not see the hours upon hours, days and nights of rigorous training. We don't see or feel the aching muscles, the spasming joints, the strained tendons. We see only the missed opportunities. The falling behind in the standings. The lack of glitter around their necks.

Ultimately, as a nation, we want the medals. We want to ride on the shirttails of these athletes, to stand in their glory so that we can enjoy the reflected glow of their achievement.

And when they don't get the medal, we chastise them for not being good enough.

Go figure.

To be part of Olympic gold all I have to do is pick up the clicker and turn on the tube. And when my team doesn't stand on the podium, I get to dis them or praise them.

The choice is mind. Me, I choose to congratulate them on doing their best. I don't need them to stand on the podium to be inspired by their actions. I am in awe of their commitment, their drive and their passion. I am humbled by their ability to BE committed to DO what it takes to HAVE what they want. And, I am inspired to keep living my dream and walk, leap, run along the path of my personal excellence. Because, in their commitment to keep going, to keep striving, to keep stepping beyond their boundaries, I am reminded that I too can live my personal best in everything I do.

Medal or not, here I come!

The question is: Are you giving life your Olympic best or are you lagging behind, listening to those who sit on the sidelines grumbling, telling you that you're just not good enough? Are you living your dream or awakening each morning forgetting what your dream was?