The Ultimate High

Forgive me. I am on an unapologetic tennis high. Unfortunately, I am also on my lunch break, so this will have to be quick.

You are losing 4-5, 0-30. You step back, taking a brief reprieve to breath deeply and gather composure. It is futile to dwell on the unforced errors, winners or mental lapses that brought you to this point. You are here, and you have two options: to fold or to fight. For the true competitor, there is no choice. You not only must fight, but you must fight harder than your opponent, want it more than your opponent and dig deeper than your opponent. You must forget the debilitating heat, screaming muscles, glaring sunlight and relentless wind to execute one more ground stroke, rush the net one more time and scramble for one more ball.

You step to the line, poised to receive serve. You make eye contact with the nemesis across the net. You reach into the inner most chambers of your will as you stare mercilessly into the innermost chambers of theirs. In that moment, the scoreboard holds no significance. You know who will rise.