In sixth grade we could go to the track across the road during lunch time. I remember one lunch break clearly, not many people were around, so I jumped over a hurdle that sat on the track. Later that spring I signed up for the 50m hurdles in the annual field day competition. I got a ribbon! (There may have only been three participants.) I knew deep in my heart I was destined to run the hurdles in track and field.
[In junior high I had a perm. I had brown glasses that were large. I had braces. I was so shy I think I might have growled at people that got too close.]
I did run those hurdles, the 100m and the 300m, all the way through my senior year in high school. Was I good at those hurdles? Not especially. I had unfortunate form, my leading leg that should have been straight, liked to bend. Instead of seamlessly alternating my jumping, I shuffled so I could jump off my right leg every time.
I kept right on jumping though, because I liked them for some reason.
Our track still had cinder when I was in high school. We did not have many home meets because of this. At one home meet my entire extended family sat in the bleachers and many, many classmates. I stood next to my rival from the north. I was winning! Two hurdles from the finish line, I bit the dust in a major way, cinder and blood from ankles to knees. I got up and finished the race. Everyone I loved witnessed my last place finish. I love those moments.
I have done some spectacular fails in my life thus far.
I have done some spectacular never-even-made-it-off the starting blocks too.
I respect my fails more than the times I never even tried.
Keep going you can do it!
LAY THOSE HURDLES FLAT!
Cinder, blood, awkward embarrassment, and all.
About Proximity 
After our conversation about the race earlier this week, and my run this afternoon, your encouragement is especially fitting:)