I’ve watched so many Olympic events this week that I’ve convinced myself that their supernatural ability and years of training are the norm.
They make it look so easy! Gliding through the water, slicing through it like a knife with that cool-looking dolphin kick, every stroke effortlessly pulling them ahead at lightening speed; barely out of breath at the end, they all finish within .000159 seconds of each other. The gymnasts bounce across the floor, and with a gentle jump their 85-pound frame catapults them into the air, during which time they rotate five times in three different directions and land solidly on both feet with a smile and a swoosh of both hands. Each pass of the volleyball requires a scantily clad player to dive for a hit, landing softly in the deep white imported sand, from which they pop up in time to hit the perfect kill shot, their bikinis perfectly intact.
Intellectually, however, I know what it takes to achieve their level of fitness because I’ve watched the tear-jerking packages about the years of sacrifice, the torn ACLs, the reconstructive surgeries, the months away from home, the lengths to which they go to get the best coach in the world. I know they have not eaten dessert in four years, and that their parents have home-schooled them because they work out more than they attend school.
I get carried away in a similar fashion when I read professional blogs and publications about content development and lead nurturing. They list out very matter-of-factly 100 things I can write about, 14 ways to lure prospects to your website, and 27 tips that will help me land the next client. I have even written about three easy steps to nurture leads every day, and have advised about the perfect time to make to sales call.
But doing it is always harder than watching it: the 1% who are at the Olympics for 14 days will attest to that, as will the 99% who are stateside trying to sell something everyday.
Nonetheless, on this dog day of August, I’m going to the pool to see if I can do the dolphin kick. I’m certain it will be a disaster, and that I’ll pull a muscle in my back and tear a hamstring, giving me an excuse not to play Olympic-style tennis on Saturday. And come Monday, I’ll be back at the grind, struggling to write, connect, nurture and sell. Practice, practice, practice.
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