The Contender II
The contender is that person who knows full well that there are others at a competition who are more likely to win, but who enters the arena nonetheless. The contender arrives at the start of the event believing in the possibilities, and more often than not goes home without “winning.” The contender is a lost name, over time. Who ever remembers even those with the silver or bronze medals, much less no prize at all?
Yet without contenders, there would be no winners. Without others pushing from behind, a winner has no race. Without others willing to put in the work of trying, there is no competition. On the rare occasions I took home the blue ribbon from the triathlon of the horse sport of Eventing, it was with astonishment and pride, along with gratitude toward my fellow athletes for being there, too.
The contender gets up every day, just like those who always seem to win, primed to try, ready to improve the skills required for the sport of choice, determined to be Better, Stronger, Faster. To me, it is this process of asking more of oneself that somehow, over time, translates to something far deeper and more meaningful than winning a particular competition.
Don’t get me wrong: winning is really nice! Results that bring a trip to the gold medal platform cannot be denied, not a bit, but effort counts for something big, too. Getting out of bed and wading through the tasks of daily life, then dropping back into bed at night knowing you did your best is what really matters. An elite athlete does the same, but for us regular folks, it may need to be enough to remember that having goals matters. Whatever achievements a person seeks, it is the try, more than the result, that builds the better person. Getting through the day with head held high is a different sort of winning. Anyone can choose to be a contender in this way.
Olympic nerds like me have just had another hefty dose of the World of Sport again with the 2022 Winter Olympics. The stories that probably tug hardest on the heartstrings of viewers like me are those about the contenders who will never make the final heat, the ones who have struggled far differently from those in the limelight, but who enter the field of play nonetheless. Those people are at the Olympics not to win, because they know they won’t, but to reach different goals. Those athletes lend courage to contenders like me who are at the level of simply trying to live honorably and with dignity. The heart which those contenders show to the world is a quiet lesson to us all.
In seven years of Eventing with my partner, Gentleman Jack (“Jake”), including several at the upper levels of the sport, he and I won exactly one event together. It was a undeniable thrill! In dozens of outings, we were almost always in the hunt, and came home with many second and third place ribbons. We also often came home with no fabric at all. But we were contenders. We showed up, we did our best. I offered congratulations to those who bested us and remained ever-humble when things went well; it is not a sport for the faint of heart.
More than the ribbons, what I will always remember (and bring to daily life) is the work of training hard every day, of preparing myself and my horse so we could enter that arena as worthy contenders. What sticks is the knowledge that the effort was my own. I built it, I owned it, I earned the memories.
If we can’t all be Mikaela, or Shaun, or any of the media-hounded, pressurized titans of their sports, we can—in whatever arena we choose to contend, including the arena of life—bring the human qualities of effort, humility, and grace to the game. That’s what a good contender does.
[Note: This blog originally appeared in “Generally Write” in 2016 and has been lightly updated and edited.]
