going for gold

It seems about this time last summer, the buzz everywhere was about Michael Phelps. A person couldn't take three breaths without hearing about him on the news or seeing his picture in the paper or watching him promote his latest product on TV or print ads. For the rest of the year, you couldn't walk down the cereal aisle, buy a phone, eat a sandwich or wipe your ass without seeing his face on the product. The man was all over the place.

And, let's face it, the guy deserved it. He won 8 gold medals in the Beijing Olympics (does anyone else feel a little cross-eyed when they read the word Beijing?). He holds 8 world records in swimming. On top of that, he as a career total (so far) of 14 gold medals. Oh, and he's only like 24 years old. In the world of swimming, I'm sure that's "pretty up there," but to the rest of the world, he's just now teething. He's a baby.

He received all this noterary because he accomplished amazing things.... well, I'm sure the perfect swimmer's build didn't hurt either. But, overall, the world took notice of Michael Phelps because of the 8 gold medals around his neck. He will go down in history for his amazing achievements in athletics and will forever be connected to the amount of gold he won.

Now, quick: name an amazing athlete who gained historical significance for being an Olympic silver medalist.

I'll wait....

Oh, I'm sorry. Times up. You see... you couldn't. I'm sure tons of famous gold medalist lept to mind. Even my unsportsman-like mind can rattle off names like Mary Lou Retton, Carl Lewis, and Bruce Jenner (okay, maybe I know that last one because he's the step dad on "Keeping Up with the Kardashians," but still...). No one remembers those who don't win the gold.

Silver medalists aren't on the tips of every one's tongues, they aren't the answer to sports bar trivia games, they aren't on Wheatie's boxes. Their song is never played. Silver medalists are forgotten.

Why? Because they came in second.

The summer before I was in ninth grade, I took a short hiatus from my mega, 7 year crush on Missy Hogberg and was ga-ga over Danielle Mosser. Danielle Mosser was an adorable girl a year behind me in my church youth group. Her family went to another church, but she started coming to the youth events for First Baptist because we had the best youth group in town (and we weren't afraid to let people know it). Seemingly out of no where, she came into my life, and I knew that she was the answer to my problems, the cure to the annoyingly consistent rejection I was receiving from Missy. "Missy may not like me," I thought, "but certainly Danielle will. This one is it."

I started going to all the church's summer youth events. Every week, I went to Monday Night Live, our night to go mow some old person's lawn and then go swimming. I'd be sure to wear my Simpson's T-shirt while I swam to show off my funny side. I tried to do crazy things to impress her like go through the Dairy Queen drive thru on my dirt bike and place an order. I thought she had the prettiest big hazel eyes and sweetest dark freckles across her tanned face. I was certain we'd be cutest couple since Dave and Maddie on Moonlighting, without the soft lens.

We used to have long conversations on the phone about nothing for hours and hours. During those, she would sweetly tell me, "If Brandon wasn't my boyfriend, we'd be boyfriend/girlfriend."

It was true. The one barrier was her boyfriend: Brandon Lott... who, now that I think about it, was probably the main reason she started coming to our church's youth group to begin with. Brandon, also a year behind me, was the church organist's son. His older sister, Deborah Lott, had a wild streak, and there were signs that wild streak continued into Brandon. Still, with his charming demeanor, good looks and gymnast in training build, you couldn't help but love him.

And, Danielle did love him... well, as much as an eighth grade girl can love an eighth grade boy. And, she was honest and told me that -- if anything should happen to Brandon where he could not fulfill his responsibilities as her boyfriend, I was there in second place. I was the runner up.

Somehow, I was fine with that. I mean, it wasn't like I was second to Mickey McBain, the kid so nerdy that even I had daydreams of stuffing him in his locker. No... being second to Brandon was pretty alright. It was like someone telling me I was almost as good looking as Michael J. Fox or I sort of resembled Kirk Cameron, but shorter and not as cute. Being second to Brandon Lott was nothing to sneeze at.

That's where it started. That's when leftovers became a nice meal. That's when hand-me downs became brand new clothes. That's when standing on the second box became acceptable. That's when being 'good enough' became enough, for me at least.

Now, 21 summers later, I'm making some changes. Through countless experiences of being second-- both those from years ago and those of last month, I'm deciding second place is no longer good enough for me. I no longer want to take a back seat to someone's career. I don't want to be someone's secret. I don't want to be someone's last fling. I no longer want to be a "side dish." I've been the chopped broccoli long enough. I want to be the main course.

I'm not saying others put me in my permanent second place. I allowed people to treat me in ways that have kept me here. And, truth be known, it's not like there aren't advantages to being where I've been. It allows for fun with minimal cost. But, you can only swim in the shallow end for so long before you get bored. I willingly stepped onto the second box. There's no one else to blame for this but me. I made myself the professional silver medalist that I am.

Thankfully, I've seen glimpses -- in other people's lives -- of what I want. Of how people should be treated. Of how good it can be. Of what genuine, true love looks like. And, that's what I want. I want that. Since what I've been doing since 9th grade hasn't seemed to produce much beyond unrequited crushes, it's time to change my strategy a bit.

Starting now, I want to swim into deeper waters. I want to be the first choice. I want to stand on the tallest point. I want to hear my song played. And, I'm no longer settling for less. I'm going for gold.