Farewell, Fury



My son had a soccer tournament this weekend. It was a special event because this was the last time his team, the Fury, will play together. They've been playing as a team for 7 years, so it's a somewhat big deal.

The first day of the tournament was great. Of the two games they played, the first one they tied 2-2 and the second game they won 3-0. The second day was the rough one. They played one game and got completely blown out 0-7. It was a very frustrating experience. The other team was bigger and better than they were, so there was little chance of winning. But the refs were also making terrible calls, never calling offsides. This accounted for at least four of the goals.

To go along with that, the other team's parents were what I would describe as overly celebratory, to the point of being obnoxious. Yes, we were sensitive, but I think we've all experienced poor sportsmanship.

There were tears and consoling through ice cream. As a parent, it's hard to see your kids hurting. But, sports are a metaphor for living. Sometimes situations are just plain insurmountable and you have no choice but to lose. It's in these moments when it's good to shift your focus from winning to playing your best. In some regards, that's the best way to play. Wins flow naturally out of reaching for your best. There will always be times where your best won't be good enough to win the game, but if your goal is simply to try, you'll always hit the mark.

I look at my weight loss as a metaphor for life as well. This is the second week my weight has gone up. Mostly, it's because of the tournament and a small cold I caught that's prevented me from doing my normal movement. My best isn't good enough to hit the number I want this week. But that doesn't stop me from putting one foot in front of the other. 

Losing the game of the scale can still teach me lessons. I moved my son's Halloween candy into the cupboard instead of being out on the counter. I bought some pickles to snack on, though cheese still found its way into my late-night cravings. The scale wasn't the number I want, but it hasn't damaged my motivation. It's simply the opportunity to try again.

I was listening to a speech h this weekend. The speaker had five affirmations he said repeating every day will help shape a positive growth mindset:
  1. Today, I choose to be positive.
  2. I am grateful for all that I have.
  3. I am capable of achieving great things.
  4. I embrace challenges as opportunities for growth.
  5. I take actions towards my goals every day.
I'm going to try reading them every day this week and see how it shapes my outlook. I'm also going to get back into my morning walks and exercise snacks. The last small thing is Thanksgiving. I'm going to focus on smaller portions and eating slowly to curb excess calorie intake.

Time to pick up the journey and keep moving forward.

Up 0.2 pounds.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Quiet Riot of the Soul

Image
I came across this video recently by After Skool, one of my favorite YouTube channels. It tells the story of an 85-year-old woman who wakes up for just one day in her 36-year-old body. She gets to relive all the tiny, ordinary moments—her son waking her up, her husband making coffee, a phone call with her mom. It’s simple. It’s beautiful. It hit me hard. Give it a watch: https://youtu.be/5TcB50M4vHA?si=4K_mTVx-ywQQoUYj (Seriously—go ahead. I’ll wait.) The Beauty in the Ordinary Sorry—I probably should’ve warned you that you might need some tissues. And if you didn’t tear up even a little? Go hug a tree or pet a kitten or something, you Neanderthal. Because wow . That poem cuts deep. Not because anything “dramatic” happens. There’s no plot twist. No epic reveal. Just… life. A child waking you up. The slow shuffle into the kitchen. The warmth of a coffee cup in your hands. Your son rambling on about superheroes and robots and monsters. These are the kinds of moments most of us rush thro...
Read more

The Stories We Tell Ourselves in Times of Tragedy

Image
On September 10, 2025, the floor was pulled out from beneath us. Charlie Kirk — conservative activist, father of two, a public figure many admired and many criticized — was speaking at Utah Valley University when he was struck by a sniper’s bullet. Authorities say the shot came from a rooftop roughly 200 yards away. A bolt-action rifle was recovered. This was no quiet crime; the act was deliberate, public, and symbolic. That same day, in Colorado, a student opened fire at Evergreen High School, critically wounding two classmates before turning the gun on himself. One act was overtly political, the other seemingly personal, but both remind us of the fragility of life and the way violence echoes outward into communities. What I’ve noticed in the aftermath is not only grief, but polarization. Voices rise quickly and sharply: some lamenting that political violence has no place in a civil society, others warning that dehumanizing rhetoric inevitably provokes bloodshed. Some gloating that Ch...
Read more

Remembering the Waves

Image
"Nothing real is lost; all love returns home.” I’ve been sitting with this line lately, turning it over like a smooth stone in my pocket. For me, it isn’t just a pretty phrase—it’s a kind of lifeline. Because underneath my spiritual searching there’s a very real fear: what happens when this life ends? What happens to me , to the people I love, to the memories and the small tender moments that make up my days? Do they vanish like a dream the moment I wake up? Living with bipolar disorder has given me glimpses into the edges of consciousness, where reality can feel fluid and fragile. During one psychotic break, I was watching The Office , and something shifted suddenly and inexplicably. In a single, surreal moment, I felt as though I wasn’t just watching the show—I was directing it. Every choice, every movement of the characters, every laugh track, was my decision . I had a fleeting sense that this entire world, this life, was something I had helped orchestrate. And then, just as ab...
Read more