If you’ve been reading my blog or this newsletter for a while, you know I have an Olympic obsession.
I was a competitive swimmer from age six until I was twenty-two. Somewhere along the way, like most kids who spend that much time staring at a black line on the bottom of a pool, I dreamt of Olympic glory. It wasn’t a realistic dream. But isn't that the point?
That’s what the Olympics do. They reconnect us with the part of ourselves that once believed anything was possible.
Over the past two weeks, two stories in particular have stuck with me.
One was the remarkable, and heartbreaking, return of skier Lindsey Vonn. After a partial knee replacement, she attempted what many thought was impossible: a comeback at the highest level of her sport. She didn’t just show up; she showed up ready to compete. And then, in a cruel twist that sports sometimes delivers, she crashed and broke her leg. But it was her response afterward that mattered most. She said:
"I’d rather try and fail than never try at all. At least I know I gave everything I had.”
That’s the kind of mindset you only develop when you’ve spent a lifetime chasing something hard. It’s not about the medal. It’s about the willingness to show up anyway, even when the odds are stacked against you.
The other story comes from American speed skater Jordan Stolz. If you haven’t heard his name yet, you will. He’s already won gold in the 500- and 1,000-meter races and is favored in the 1,500.
What makes his story so compelling isn’t just the medals. It’s the combination of natural gifts and relentless effort. In track terms, he’s dominating events that are the equivalent of both the 100-meter dash and the mile. That range is rare. It’s a reminder of what can happen when someone’s physiology, passion, and work ethic align.
And then there’s the part of his story I love most: he grew up training on a backyard pond in Wisconsin.
No fancy facilites. No grand plan. Just a kid, some ice, and a dream.
When I look at these two stories side by side, I don’t see tragedy and triumph. I see something deeper.
I see two people who refused to settle.
One chased an improbable comeback because she wasn’t done yet. The other leaned fully into his gifts and let his joy for the sport carry him forward.
Different paths. Same spirit.
In medicine, and in life, it’s easy to settle. We follow the prescribed path. We meet expectations. We keep our heads down and push forward, even when something inside us is asking for more.
Sometimes we settle because we’re tired.
Sometimes because we’re afraid.
Sometimes because we’ve forgotten what it feels like to dream.
The Olympics remind us that dreams matter. Not because we’ll all become Olympians, but because the act of trying changes us.
Dreaming gives our work meaning.
Trying builds resilience.
And showing up, even when the outcome is uncertain, is where growth lives.
So this week, I’ll leave you with one question:
Where are you settling in your life?
And how might you better use your strengths, talents, and gifts?
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If you’re looking for support in your next step, whether that’s leadership, career transitions, or simply rediscovering joy in your work, I’d be honored to walk alongside you. Schedule time here
Until next time,
Ben
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