just not enough

Cox: "Thanks for giving me a shot, coach."

Herb: "Thanks for giving me your very best."

-Miracle

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That part of the movie was probably the first time I almost cried. You had to feel for Cox, the guy who wasn't necessarily the standout player but obviously had skills, and above all gave his very best.

I still remember being traumatized back when I was a junior, and a certain professor with a heart of stone told me to my face "I know this is a lab class. You have the highest lab grades in my sections and if you added up the points you would probably rank higher than the other people - but because you were only average on exams, you were the last person to be cut off the "A" list...because I just don't think you deserve an "A"."

I remember now what it feels like to try to make it on effort and just simply have it not be good enough.

Well, it would have been nice to have been a success story - one of those tales that you tell your competitors about how hard work and determination is enough to overcome any obstacle.

But sometimes, it isn't. Sometimes you give your very best given the circumstances you're in, and it just isn't enough.

It's a harsh reality, but that's exactly what it is - reality.

Well, first off, praise God that I'm still walking. Stuff hurts, some more than others, the knees (yes both of them) hate me and my foot might be fractured - but it's not anything that drugs and rest won't heal. Hopefully.

What's disappointing is that despite all that I went through to overcome the odds, it wasn't enough. And I can console myself that it was one heck of an experience and that I'll be stronger because of it and that I tried my best and that's what counts, that I gave it my all so I won't regret it - but in the end what it comes down to is that despite all that went into this - I lost. I fell short by a ridiculously small margin. A margin that could have easily been overcome, had I had two good knees.

I couldn't have rehabbed my knee any harder than I was already doing. I couldn't have trained any more without totally ignoring my job and other responsibilities. I couldn't have kept that stupid emotional lockbox locked for very much longer. It was a Herculean effort - at many times alone, and grateful for the times that I wasn't - but when it is all said and done, that's what my year is: done.

So this is what heartbreak feels like.

So. Utterly. Exhausted.