Play as good as you are, not as good as you can

Words of wisdom come from everywhere. My husband happens to be a very open conduit. When assessing the recent standings in Final Four and the surprising loss of a favored, stronger team to a lesser, weaker one, he said prophetically, "They played as good as they could, but not as good as they are."
   I was dumbstruck, because even though some could say this sounds like double speak, I beg to differ. I know exactly what he means.
   I know how to play as good as I can. And I know the difference between that and playing as good as I am. There is a big difference. And athletics is one arena that can best exemplify that. Though I have never played team sports, I do pay attention to them because my husband is a long time fan of most sports. This basketball tournament is always fascinating to watch because of the upsets. Teams that shouldn't be winning, do. And why? They awaken to who they are and tap into the capabilities of the players and the team synergy that must have needed a highly stressful, competitive environment in order to emerge.
   Runners will talk about "hitting the wall." I am fascinated by this concept, because it applies to life as well as physical endurance and accomplishment. When runners hit the wall in a marathon, their bodies are physically spent. Everything has caught up with them and they have no more to give. It's actually a physical condition--a depletion of glycogen which results in sudden exhaustion. But runners who are winners tell me that when the body fails, the mind prevails. (Or spirit or soul.) And that's when they run "as good as they are." Not as good as they can.
   When I write, I know the difference between writing as good as I can and as good as I am. I write as good as I can all the time. But the continual challenge is to go beyond that. To tap into the capability that lies within me--to knock down the wall of good enough and enter the world of personal best. There's divinity there. And I have felt it. It's not easy. Like the runner, it requires pushing past the point of frustration, personal exhaustion, the desire to collapse and give up. It means plumming deeper, not accepting fear or personal victimization as a viable reason for giving up. In most instances, it means letting go of ego, control and even logic. And just allowing. And doing, always doing. And when the dust settles and I read what is in front of me, I am awed. Because I did it. And I didn't think I could.