Breakthroughs happen, not in the post-game flurries of confetti glinting around you in the spotlight and sticking to your hair as legions of adoring fans continue to cheer your name from their seats long after the clock has ticked down to zero.
Breakthroughs come in the early morning hours somewhere between darkness and early light when you’re alone, running drills for the millionth time on an empty practice field with no one but the birds watching. (And even the birds are more interested in their own agendas than what you’re up to.)
While confetti and bright lights and the post-game interview for the night’s highlight reel are heady, the arresting jolt of electricity that marks your transformation can only come from the solitude of your daily discipline inside the privacy of your own, quiet heart.
