I heard the following story during a message delivered on a Sunday morning at James River Assembly by Dick Foth, a visiting Pastor from Timberline Church in Colorado and thought how appropriate it was for how we sometimes view life. Consider this:

“In a classic study, Medvec, Madey, and Gilovich coded the facial expressions of Olympic medalists. Not surprisingly, Gold medalists exhibited the most joy. However, Bronze medalists showed more positive emotional expressions than Silver medalists. Objectively, this doesn’t make sense because the Silver medalists had just outperformed the Bronze medalists. However, the reference point for Silver medalists was likely “If only I had just run a little faster, I could have won the gold medal!”. One can imagine that after years of training, missing on a chance to be considered the greatest in the world, an opportunity that might not present itself again, could be incredibly disheartening.

Bronze medalists were less likely to think about if they had been a little faster they would have won a silver medal. Instead, Bronze medalists appeared to focus on the fact that they could have easily slipped to fourth place, in which case they would have missed out on a medal. Instead, they won a bronze and they could find joy in the fact that they will always be recognized as an Olympic medalist.”

This reminded me of an adventure I participated in a few years ago while working for Carlson Managed Hotels. Annually, or sometimes more often, they took the General Managers and Directors of Sales on a management retreat and we were so fortunate to have been invited to Salt Lake City, Utah to take part in a 3-4 day meeting focusing on the upcoming Marketing Plan and Budget processes. I always looked forward to the meetings although it was very difficult to leave my family even if for a short time. During this trip, part of our agenda was to choose an extra-curricular activity that most appealed to us and the choices included shopping, snowmobiling, and bobsledding on the Olympic course in Park City. I originally chose shopping, low impact – high enjoyment factor in my book. And then Dru, my trusty sidekick at the hotel talked me into signing up for the bobsledding. “It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity! You gotta do it!” Famous words she still hasn’t lived down. So, an hour bus ride, one death-waiver later (yes, really), a helmet fitting and a meet and greet with our famous and former-Olympian designated driver and we were ready to roll (or as I affectionately put it – begin our 4G death-defying race down the course). I was partnered with two of the funnest girls I know who worked for our corporate office and other than never forgiving them for voting me to ride in the very back, we had a crazy-fun and weirdly-bonding experience as our little bobsled screamed down the ice. Or maybe that was me screaming, I forget.

I think our time was like 52 seconds or something and it was the closest I think I have ever come to feeling like I was actually going to die. How those athletes do that on a regular basis is beyond me. In fact, bobsledders are limited to how many times they can actually go down the course on any given day due to the toll it takes on their body. A little fact they felt compelled to share after my near-death experience. The picture they took of us as a group after we completed the course shows a glowing and widely-smiling group of girls (and one very rugged looking driver). You’d never guess that we were glowing because the tears of joy for having survived were still drying on our faces and the smiles were because we finally believed we might still live to see our families again. I wish I could say I was exaggerating. I also wish I could say that I ever regretted doing it. The truth is that while I’ll probably never do it again (no matter how much you make it sound like its way funner than shopping, Dru) I also don’t regret it at all. It was definitely a once in a lifetime experience and I bought myself the most expensive hooded sweatshirt they sold in the gift shop that proudly proclaimed I was on the Olympic Bobsled Team (in my dreams and never in a million years!)

I share all that to say that while we were in Park City, we also got to go take a gander at the high-jump ski slopes. We were dropped off at the top of the jump and were allowed to peer over the top of the initial launch deck where the skiers shove off to then literally fly down the hill, jet off of the ramp, do some crazy Ninja-maneuver mid-air and land on two 6-inch wide boards while singing “ta-da!” How does someone do that for the first time? I thought about how great it would feel to sit on my rear-end and skooch all the way down the ramp and then just jump off the end into a big fluffy snowbank and even that made my palms sweat. Yep, Ms. Adventure at your service.

Which really does bring me to my point. They did transport us to the bottom of the jump where the skiers actually land and we got to see the ramp from the bottom. I don’t know which angle made it appear more formidable. I do know that peering over the top of the launch site on the upper end was much more ominous than looking at it from below. Isn’t that how life is sometimes? Looking at a really hard situation from the top down is sometimes so overwhelming we never get the heart to actually take that first step to get past it. The instructors who were showing us around the Olympic course at Park City said that future skiers who don’t start at a very early age rarely get past the fear of letting go at the top of that very high jump. They have to start early in their lives, trust the instructors who convince them to “go tackle that hill” and then be fearless when pushing off for the very first time. And they claim that once you’ve done it, it gets easier and then you can’t imagine not making sure the next hill is even bigger. As Steve and I raise our three kids, we try very hard to “keep things real” with them so they are unknowingly prepared for the day when they have to tackle the really big hills. I know sometimes they tell us that we’re “too strict” “unfeeling” or “old fashioned” or my favorite “we enjoy dishing out the tough love” and I can remember saying some of those same things about my grandparents who raised me. I also know that today I am forever grateful for every hard lesson that they ever taught my sister and me. I was unknowingly being prepared for the biggest ramps life had to offer. And skooching down the hill was not part of the course. The lessons I have learned that have been the hardest and stuck the longest are the ones that began with an unplanned launch off the top of that ramp on skis that were the wrong size while not wearing a coat and no goggles coupled with a blizzard taking place at the same time.

Our perspective with how we approach life is critical to how we live it, appreciate it and yes, even end it. Being thankful (down to our soles) for every accomplishment, whether it’s a gold, silver or bronze experience is part of what we should strive for. Understanding that sometimes we have to take that leap of faith and conquer that biggest hill if we are to ever experience the greatest things in life. And it is very important that we sometimes look back up that slope and reflect on just how tough it was to come down that. We are made of sterner stuff than we sometimes realize. And our perspective is the foundation that all of our coping skills are based upon.