I watched a floor routine by a phenomenal gymnast. The commentator remarked that she had already gotten two scores of ten, so could relax and only attain a 9.6 for this one and still win. But that was not her strategy. She poured it all out, pumped by the energy of her team who were chanting on the sidelines. 

 

Such accolades have never been in my wheelhouse. Even as a lanky twelve year old I couldn't figure out how to do a round off. Now that I am in my sixties cutting my toenails takes planning. 

 

Being the best is probably a blast. The adrenaline of seeing your name at the top of the board must feel terrific. It is a crest you can ride for a long time. Who can resist jamming it into the conversation?

 

"That reminds me of when I won nationals..."

 

But maybe there is value in being a sustainable six. Showing up not as the one with a gold medal, but a reliable player. My life resonates with that, and the circumstances that we all find ourselves in only amplifies it. I made dinner last night. It was not Pinterest worthy, but it was warm. I used the last of the onions from our small garden, and although they were the size of avocado pits they were savory. I sang for church next Sunday, and while the recording has a little background noise hopefully the children singing along won't mind. I listened to a friend who has had a tough time in recent years, and though I had no sage advice I did keep her company. Another woman described to me a time when she was not the fastest worker in the office but her boss expressed gratitude for her attitude. 

 

The drain of uncertainty seems to shave off the top of our energy, leaving less for being creative. But maybe ordinary is enough.