in another life

The sun is shining, but there are clouds in the sky. The temperatures are bearable, almost pleasant, especially with a breeze. The burning heat of last week has gone for the time being. It is such a relief not to be boiling, fearing to go outdoors, frustrated by the lethargy and irritability that afflicts every person in the house when the temperatures are high. Everyone, that is, except the dog, she spent the week alternately browning her belly and panting in the shade.
The Olympic games started last week. I'm not entirely sure which team I should be cheering for, but the coverage tends to be of the British team (understandably). So I support them generally, one doesn't wish to support them too strongly, they don't win much. I enjoyed watching the USA girls take gold in gymnastics yesterday - I still remember how exciting it was to watch them win the last time they did it in '96 when Strugg hurt her ankle on the vault and had to be carried for the team pictures by coach Bella Carolli.
Watching the games, especially gymnastics and swimming, I remember myself as a child - how I wished to emulate those I saw compete in the games, how I wondered if I could be capable of doing those things. I even took gymnastics for a while. I have no idea if I was any good at it, but I do remember my failures. I couldn't hold pike position. I fell off the balance beam. I was self-conscious. Even before the age of ten I had acquired the belief that I should be able to do it well the first time, and if I couldn't it was better to quit. I had no understanding of effort, commitment, the joy of conquering one's own weaknesses and inabilities. I only felt the shame of failure. In retrospect, it was ridiculous, why should I, just starting the sport, expect to be the best in a group of girls who may very well have more experience than I? So I gave up. My gymnastic dream joined my violinist dream on the 'too hard' heap, and I went on to things I felt I did better at - singing, piano and academics.
Of course, I discovered, as time went by, that I needed to work hard at these things as well. So I gave up piano and chose not to pursue a career in singing. In the end I turned to the study of theology, progressing to harder study each time I accomplished something. I faced some serious challenges of self-discipline, but the work was never too hard. Every time I wondered if it was too much to accomplish, I found I was able to do it with effort, and I did it well.
So here am I, working away at the most daunting project I have ever been given, ignoring my 'give up when its too hard' voice, researching and writing a doctoral thesis and, in the process re-writing my own understanding of life, hard work, and what I might be capable of accomplishing.
But I can't help feeling wistful as I watch those sports that I enjoy in another Olympics, wondering what, if I had been a little more determined and a lot less self-conscious, I might have been capable of in another life.