There was a surprising upset at the Beijing Olympics, when the young Russian touted as “the greatest skater in the world” dramatically toppled from her perch. I hadn’t seen Kamila Valiera skate in her initial triumphant performance. That was before the news erupted about her having taken a performance-enhancing drug. I’m fascinated by drama, so I stayed up late the final night to watch her skate onto the rink, her expression already distraught. I could imagine what she’d been through the past week, with athletes around the world resenting her being allowed to compete once the news about the drug became known. It would have been too heavy a burden for anyone, much less a 15-year-old on a global stage.
I know too well how stress affects your ability to think clearly or – in this case – to stay in control of the skill that skating demands. So I was saddened but not surprised when Kamila fell during her performance – not once, but twice. With the eyes of the world on her, she tearfully managed to continue after her humiliating falls. Within minutes it was over, any podium appearance shockingly beyond reach now.
Why, I ask myself, did this scene affect me so much? I guess it was the close-up of that tearful face – a child’s face. She was clutching her stuffed rabbit afterward, while being harshly berated by a coach who should have been comforting her. I leave it to the authorities to determine whether Kamila took the drug deliberately or, as most believe, she was the victim of adults who were supposedly looking out for her.
I have no idea what Kamila’s future will be, or whether she will have the will to skate again. Her adolescent view may equate her Olympic failure to total failure in life. It takes a certain amount of maturity– and courage – to understand that one failure, even an internationally publicized one, need not be the end of the story. Former two-time gold medal skier Mikaela Shiffrin, who was unable to even finish some of her runs this time, summed it up best: “You can fail but not be a failure.” It’s a lesson that I and many of my writer friends struggle with, when we receive rejection after rejection from publishers. Yet it’s legendary how many books that became famous had been repeatedly rejected, eventually succeeding because their authors had enough belief in themselves to continue.
Of course, it isn’t only athletes and authors who need this perseverance. A friend whose marriage has just broken up confided that she’ll “never get over it,” certain she’ll never be able to love or be loved again. I’m betting she will, for she has the quality I most envy: resilience. Life is so full of twists and turns, it’s foolhardy to surrender to the feeling that one or a dozen turns in the wrong direction mean you’ve reached the end of the road.
That road to success is rarely a straight line, as Nathan Chen can verify. As a young child he began reaping medals from all the top skating competitions. But his awesome leaps cost a price. In 2016 he injured his left hip so severely it required surgery. End of his career? After months of rehabilitation, he put on his skates again. Then during the 2018 Olympics, he gave a shaky performance and his rating fell to 17th place before the free skate. End of the road or rink? He says, “That experience helps me retain some resiliency.” Enough to enable him to go all the way to Olympic gold.
Too often we waste time and energy berating ourselves for a “stupid” mistake or saying we can’t succeed because we’re “not who we used to be.” Maybe we’re not, but what we can become is more worth setting our sights on. As Chen found and Valeira may realize, giving up on yourself should never be an option.
WEBSITE: www.annehosansky.com
BOOKS: COME and GO – available through BookBaby.com, WIDOW’S WALK –iUniverse.com; TURNING TOWARD TOMORROW –Xlibris.com, TEN WOMEN OF VALOR and ROLE PLAY– available through CreateSpace.com and Amazon.com; also Amazon Kindle.