The fourth signal: FLY

I was to compete in the US Transplant Games, entering three events: Shot put, long jump, and the 100 meters sprint. I was a few weeks away from the games when I was approached by my high school client, Chelsea Allen. She presented me with this card in which I still possess:“You are always telling us to strive for perfection in everything that we do. Now it’s your turn. I expect three gold medals when you get back, just like you expect me to leg press 800 lbs. I did my part of the deal. Good luck x infinity, and also remember to have fun. I’ll be thinking of you and cheering for you.”“Three gold metals! Are you kidding me?! I am in the three hardest events and running against the Florida State University Champion and you want all gold?!” “Yes, that is what I expect from you, no less.”We traveled to Kentucky for the Games and my first event was the shot put. On the first toss, the shot felt like a feather! I had a world record. I then proceeded to the 100-meter preliminary race. It was easy as I cruised to the finish line. Not having to go all out for not racing against the top tier.Next was the long jump. My 8-year-old son and I would use hand signals because he couldn’t be on the field. I had to make sure to look at him before I started. Some signals were a closed fist (POWER), a thumbs up (DOING GREAT), fist to his chest (let’s go Dad), and others. He made a first before my jump and on my second attempt, he held two closed fists. I responded by pumping mine and won gold with that jump. However, during the jump, I badly pulled my hamstring causing it to swell and bruise. I limped around while putting on ice and getting massages from my kids. I had an hour before the 100 meters and I could barely walk. Just before the final race, I couldn’t move my right leg. I was thinking of pulling out of the race but, I went to stand in the center lane. The guys to my immediate left and right were really fast. They knew my hamstring was hurting but, we all joked before the race. While lining up and watching them get into their zone, I looked down the track and saw my son. He was leaning over the rail giving me the fourth signal. He had his arms stretched out wide and moving them up and down. I teared up a bit and got the attention of all the guys on the track.“Do you see that kid at the finish line flapping his arms?” “Yes, what is he doing?” “That’s my son and he is telling me to FLY DAD! I’m sorry, but you guys will lose today.” I finished first in that race, pumping my fists as I crossed the finish line. Afterward, the pain from my hamstring seemed irrelevant. We traveled home as my son walked through the airport wearing my three gold medals. He had a smile a mile wide as passengers walking by would congratulate him.I returned home and was greeted the next day by Chelsea. “How did you do? Where are my three gold metals?” I reached into my bag and placed the three gold medals in her hand. She gave me a slight smile and nodding of her head. “I knew you could do it.”

I BELIEVE I CAN FLY

I used to think that I could not go on

And life was nothing but an awful song

But now I know the meaning of true love

I’m leaning on the everlasting arms

If I can see it, then I can do it

If I just believe it, there’s nothing to it

I believe I can fly

I believe I can touch the sky

I think about it every night and day

Spread my wings and fly away

I believe I can soar