“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” – Theodore Roosevelt
Part of being a man is stepping up. It’s getting in the arena and pushing oneself while others remain in the bleachers. Boys sit and dream about being someone strong, successful or important. Men passionately pursue their goals until they either succeed or die trying. They never quit or make excuses. Boys retreat or lower expectations at the slightest hint of adversity or struggle. They quickly surrender to the misguided notion that the world should provide success without effort. Men intuitively understand that nothing is owed and every achievement must be earned.
This morning, 18 PAXs (MEN) descended upon OPES, stepped into the arena and pushed themselves through a challenging Q. Countless merkins, tractor tire flips, pull-ups, air squats, weed pickers, side straddle hops, and a few laps around the parking lot. None quit. Each earned every drop of sweat that dropped on the pavement. Greatness was achieved by all.
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