Winners Never Quit and Quitters Never Win

Wasn't it Richard Bach who said we teach best what we most need to learn? Well I need to learn the following lesson...because I quit, and quit and then quit some more. The moment things get tough and I am uncomfortable and I feel unloved, unwanted and unappreciated, I quit. I don't even try to make things better. So you can imagine how the following story by Lisa Nichols in her book No Matter What resonated with me:

At fifteen, a big source of unhappiness in my life was my performance on the swim team. I loved to swim and had been swimming competitively for about three years, but I was ready to quit - not because I'd satisfied my desire to swim but because I was horrible at it. My favorite event was the 100-yard freestyle, but I always seemed to come in dead last. I had a shelf full of honorable mention ribbons, those awards that mean "Thank you for showing up. We don't want you to leave empty-handed, so here's something for you to take home to your mother." And that's what I'd do. I'd take home my honorable mention ribbon, and my mother would put it on the shelf. Bless my mom's heart, she had no idea it meant I'd come in last. She thought I'd actually done something honorable. That shelf was my official losers shrine, and I was fed up with it.

One afternoon, the day before a big meet, I decided to break the news that I was quitting the swim team to Grandma Bernice. Now you have to understand that though she had to stand on tiptoe to measure five feet two ans weighed ninety five pounds soaking wet, my grandmother was a force to be reckoned with. She ran her house and our family without leaving her sofa or raising her voice. I wasn't sure how she'd take my decision to quit. I was the only athlete in my family, but since my family was rarely able to come see me compete, I figured it wouldn't be a major issue.

That day, I took my usual position, laying my big head on my grandma's tiny lap so that she could rub my head. She'd done this for all eighteen of her grandchildren for as long as I could remember. When I told her I wanted to quit swimming, she abruptly pushed my head off her lap, sat me straight up, facing her, and in her fiercest voice said, "Baby, remember these words: A quitter never wins and a winner never quits."

I was surprised by this. My grandmother rarely used absolutes like "never" or "always". I said, "Grandma, are you saying never?

She said, "I'm saying never, baby."

Then she laid my head back down on her lap and began rubbing my head again. She told me about the endurance and strength of my ancestors and reminded me that I was descended from greatness. I remember little tears leaking from the corners of my eyes as she said more softly, "Sweetheart, you're entitled to get tired; you're entitled to get exhausted. You may have to rest, to go hibernate and restore...but you always have to come back out and keep going."

In the next instant, her tone changed. I could feel the steel in her as she said, "Lisa, your grandmother didn't raise no losers or quitters. You go to that swim meet tomorrow and you swim like you are a grandchild of mine, you hear?"

I knew better than to say anything but "Yes, ma'am."

The next day, our team arrived at the swim meet late, missing my event, the 100-yard freestyle for girls fifteen to sixteen years old. My coach insisted that I be allowed to swim with the next group, which happened to be the seventeen-to-eighteen-year-olds. I wanted to slip out of the gym and run away. I knew she was just including me in the race so our long drive wouldn't be wasted. She had no expectations that I would come in anything but eighth - and that was only because there weren't nine lanes.

As I mounted the board, I looked around at the other swimmers. These girls in their skintight caps, goggles, and Speedo suits were here to do one thing - kick my butt! My shoulders slumped. I knew I was going to come in last. Why even bother?

Suddenly, my grandma's words began to ring in my head: Quitters never win and winners never quit; quitters never win and winners never quit.

The gun went off.

SPLASH!

Quitters never win and winners never quit; quitters never win and winners never quit.

I swam hard, harder than I'd ever swum before. Halfway through the first length, as I drew my right arm back, I noticed that I was tied with one person. I assumed we were battling for eighth place. Deciding that the other girl was going to be the one to finish dead last today, I threw my entire body into my strokes. At the end of the length, I turned around in a burst of energy and added more kick as I traveled the last 50 yards.

Quitters never win and winners never quit; quitters never win and winners never quit.

At the finish, I hit the wall and looked to the left and then to the right for the swimmers who had beaten me, but no one was there. Man! I thought. I'm so slow, they must have gotten out of the water already.

I raised my head to see my coach screaming hysterically. My eyes followed her pointing finger, and I couldn't believe my eyes. The other swimmers had just reached the halfway point of the pool! I turned back to the coach and said, "Coach, what happened? Was I supposed to swim more laps? What happened?"

She said, "You tell me what happened, Lisa. You're only fifteen, and you just broke the seventeen-to eighteen-year-old 100-yard freestyle national record!"

At first, dazed by my unexpected victory, I couldn't think how I'd done it. Then I knew: I'd changed the conversation in my my head. Instead of thinking, I don't want to lose, I don't want to lose, I don't want to lose, like I usually did, I'd told myself, Quitters never win and winners never quit. I'd concentrated on winning rather than on not losing!