I'M NOT SURE WHERE I LEARNED TO HANG ON. But, I'm glad I did.
It wasn't from tennis, which I played through high school.
Nor from riding my Stingray all over town.
BB guns had nothing to do with it.
Somewhere as a kid I learned to hang on.
Past the initial pain.
Beyond the wretched aches.
Through the final infernal burns.
What's so great about hanging on?
On the others side is goodness.
A stronger you, a stronger me.
Not a crowd, only the best.
Then things get better.
Hanging on is a known.
Our personal fortune teller.
Climbing a big mountain and getting gapped...
Totally out of synch with a loved one...
Pushing the company to a new level...
hang on, hang on, hang on
Soon you'll crest the top and enjoy a new, wonderful ride...
... if you'll just hang on.
(Actually, as my fingers wave and click across the keys I know exactly where I learned it. Surfing big waves. To catch a big wave you have to paddle for all your worth to get up to speed. An hesitation and you'll either miss the wave and get pummeled by the next wave coming or you'll be going to slow to stand up and get sucked "over the falls" and held under the ocean until you think your head will explode. So you paddle and paddle and paddle until you catch that beast and you stand up and own it. These days it's pedal and pedal and pedal.)