It is not the critic who counts.

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.” –Theodore Roosevelt

I am pretty sure that I have been the critic more than I have been the person in the arena. How incredible would it be if we decided to not be critics? I am critical, by personality…a huge weakness of mine. I can be critical of anything. I am critical of a dying dog. It really is such a tragedy.

I have decided that being a critic is the easy way out. It is easy to be a skeptic. The hard thing in life is to be the person who is alone, being criticized. It is difficult to fail and fail and fail again. It is hard to struggle, to stumble, and to fall. It is hard to live for a worthy cause. It is hard to know only defeat.

But oh, how sweet when there is victory. How wonderful when you can say for once, “I was not the critic. I took the road less travelled.” This is a challenge for all of us to be “the man in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strove valiantly, who spent himself in a worthy cause, who knew the triumph of high achievement, and who dared greatly.”