The Little Engine That Could is a classic tale of a little engine that, despite her size, triumphantly pulls a train full of wonderful things to the children waiting on the other side of a mountain.
When he was a very little boy, if I read the book to Craig once, I read it to him a hundred times. He was always fascinated with The Little Engine That Could. For that matter, I vaguely remember the book from my childhood.
As you no doubt recall, a stranded train is unable to find an engine willing to take it on over a difficult terrain to its destination. Only the little engine is willing to try and, while repeating the mantra "I think I can, I think I can, overcomes a seemingly impossible task. On the down grade after completing what seemed an impossible task, the train congratulates itself by saying "I thought I could, I thought I could.
Perhaps it was with that same principle in mind, I successfully completed weeks of physical therapy to restore the ability associated with mobility issues regarding my right foot. One of the exercises I hated was to spell the alphabet using my foot. By now, I've gotten it down to a fine art.
That exercise, along with the sound of Velcro securing or releasing my orthopedic boot, are two things I don't mind parting with for the next forever. Been there/Done that is my seasoned response.
How often do we give up on accomplishing a task because we cease to believe "I think I can, I think I can? Sometimes our endeavors set us up for failure. In the years that I've been flying to Washington, D.C., I've only flown into Dulles Airport one time. Getting from Dulles to D.C. was a challenge. Reportedly, you can now make the commute by train.
The one time I flew into and out of Dulles, I remember entering the airport and seeing several rows of escalators going up and several going down. As I was headed up, out of the periphery of my vision I noticed a woman attempting to go up on an escalator going down. Talk about two steps forward – two steps back. To add to the difficulty, she was pulling luggage behind her.
It was like watching someone run on a treadmill. She was moving fast, but there wasn't much forward motion. Eventually a person coming down the escalator redirected the woman to the escalators going up. I didn't see her facial expression, but she had to be grateful to discover an easier way to get to the second floor.
I remember that the incident reminded me of my mother. Mother never attempted to go up an escalator going down, but she was always afraid to step onto the escalator. There was something about the first step on the moving stairs that created fear for her. Consequently, we took her by the arm and told her when to step. Even then it was a challenge for her.
I suspect that my grandsons have the memory of "The Little Engine That Could" in their backgrounds. I think both have overdone it in their quest for lifting weights, but who am I to say? Maybe I gave up way too early.
All My Best!
Don
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