My friend’s daughter recently competed in the Cyclo-Cross national championships in Hartford, CT. The most enjoyable part of her competition was watching all the videos and photos that my friend posted throughout the season and witnessing the development of this young athlete leading up to the final race.
After the championships, my friend posted a video of her daughter coming around a turn on the course; fearless, focused, strong. And as she passes, my friend yells out to her daughter, “You’re in thirteenth place now!”. And that’s the thing about racing (and probably about life). You need to know your numbers.
So much of the time, we think about who we are counting on or who is counting on us. But having someone count for you. Well, that’s a different level of commitment.
Recently, my friend Jenny counted scoops of flour, baking up a cake that didn’t need baking to give to a guy who, as it turns out, didn’t deserve cake. But she was counting for me.
Recently, my friend Chuck started counting minutes, running miles so he can pace me to a podium finish when we race together for the first time in April. He’s counting for me.
Recently, my friend Shari counted billable hours, designing the world’s best logo in support of our big dreams. She created Ophelia the owl, and they’re both counting for me.
When someone is counting for you, she treats your goals as her own. He wants your success, sometimes more than you do. They know what needs to happen for you to get there, even when you’re uncertain.
They can see what is ahead even when you feel trapped in the fog. They are counting the things you can’t see: anticipating, encouraging, pushing you forward, pulling you along, making sure you’re never blind to possibility. When someone is counting for you, potential becomes boundless, obstacles fade, and the road rises up to meet you.
There’s nothing sexy about counting, but it’s the code for winning (in racing and in life). If you haven’t lately, it might be time to count who is counting for you. Know your numbers. If there’s thirteen in front of you, well, that’s nothing more than a baker’s dozen.