I haven't done a bit of exercise this week, unless you count the five city blocks I walked yesterday after my meetings were over in NYC to meet my uncle who was in town to watch one of his friend's kids wrestle for a spot on the Olympic team.
There are two things that can consistently make me cry: Videos of servicemen and women returning home (excessive crying if they are surprising a family member or their kids at school) and the Olympics.
I don't know if it is those emotion-inducing background stories or if I am just so jacked up on patriotism, but there is always an Olympic story or two that never fails to make me shed a tear.
Yesterday, I got to witness someone fulfill his dream to make it to the Olympics.
And by make it to the Olympics, I mean wrestle his way in, outside, in the middle of Times Square, in an event they were calling "The Grapple in the Big Apple."
It was crazy and incredibly cool.
Right in front of me I watched someone succeed at something they loved and meet a goal they had worked a lifetime for.
So when I started my walk back to the hotel (ooh--another 5 blocks--that makes 10 total) I left there not feeling bad that this guy wrestled in a weight-class that just so happens to be a few lbs. shy of where I usually weigh-in, but abuzz with possibility, a little teary-eyed, and inspired to try to follow through on a few of my own goals.
So, congratulations Scott Coleman! The Three Bean's will be rooting for you in London!