I’m having a tough time with some things at the moment and, yesterday, failed miserably in dealing with it. I was down on myself and ate until I literally felt greasy and sick. I went to an Indian Bazaar and got a Picnic bar, a package of dry fruit chikki brittle and a package of puri for bhel. And I ate it all. 1530 calories of nutritionally bankrupt food. Today is a new day and I begin again. Because I need a good pep talk today myself, I’m going to share one of the best I’ve ever read:
It is not the critic who counts; nor the one who points out how the strong person stumbled, or where the doer of a deed could have done better.
The credit belongs to the person who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; who does actually strive to do deeds; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotion, spends oneself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who at worst, if he or she fails, at least fails while daring greatly.
Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those timid spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat.
I’m not sure I’m back to Roughrider status today; but, with conscious effort, I will be soon. I will be strong enough to once again dare mighty things.