I met a lady in the ER. “You’re Erin’s dad, aren’t you?” For years my children were `Dr. Garvin’s kids’. As they make their way in the world, however, the point of reference is shifting, as it should. Now, I am Erin’s dad.
This patient had recently lost a great deal of weight with Erin’s help as a personal fitness instructor. The woman had always wanted to run a 10K race. “Let’s do it!” said Erin.
The woman worried she couldn’t keep up, but Erin encouraged her until she consented. “I ran last the entire race, but Erin ran with me. She could have won the race easily, but she stayed with me. I wanted to quit. Erin wouldn’t let me.”
“No crime in finishing last,” I said.
‘I didn’t finish last,” the woman answered softly. “Right at the finish line, Erin abruptly slowed down. I went across the line ahead of her.”
Sometimes the races of which we should be most proud are the one’s we `lose.’ A peculiar notion isn’t it? To win by losing?
From years ago: Erin may have found her `bliss’; her calling. Teaching. Teaching swimming to all ages.
When a person is gifted or born to a task, there is a sort of genius that trails close by their efforts.
Take one severely water-phobic six year old, Myron.
“I DON’T WANT TO GET IN THE WATER!!! I MIGHT GET WATER IN MY EARS!!! I’M TOO YOUNG TO GET WATER IN MY EARS!!! THEY MIGHT BLEED AND THEN I’D BE DEAD TO DEATH!!!
Your job? (And it doesn’t matter whether you have accepted it or not.) Get Myron in the water by any legal means. No, sorry – half-nelsons and chloroform are illegal. I sense a collective cringe from my readers; like trying to bottle a sunbeam, right?
Here’s the genius:
Erin made Myron her, “Swimming Asistant.” From that time forward, Myron was the first one in the pool, and the last to leave.
I am powerfully affected by the suspicion that not only would I never have thought to do that; I would have signed the psychiatric certification of anyone who suggested it.
But it worked. Rather than put Myron in dry-dock for the day, she appealed to his sense of self-worth.
Erin has an encompassing empathy. She moves out of herself – and into others – so well; so instinctively.
It makes me jealous.
Erin was the first of two women in history who, together, survived the killer 2500 mile-long Great Divide Mountain Bike Trail.
On one particular evening, the group [2 women, five men] worked out how they were going to deal with the coming day: forty miles through the desert, no water and only one shelter, an abandoned horse barn shown on their map. The next dawned brightly, but as the group set off, storm-clouds gathered; lightning and hail began. So brilliant and frequent were the flashes, it was like being caught in a flood of strobe lights. Their maps? The way to shelter? Forget it. They could barely see the road ahead. Then Erin looked to her side and was amazed to see a large black stallion running effortlessly beside her. “Dad, he was so close to me, I could see the hairs on his muzzle. This odd companionship went on for some miles, Erin’s group was now completely lost. Suddenly the stallion veered off the road over a berm. On an instinct, Erin followed him off the road, and there sat the horse barn – but – the stallion had disappeared.
And, there were no hoof prints…
Make of the tale what you will.
By Lucky Garvin [email protected]