Recently I read about a study that suggests greatness is achieved mainly
through hard work, perseverance, and a bit of good luck, and that inherent
talent plays a much smaller role than one would expect. This sort of
news is of course heartening to those of us with little to no talent,
aside from our ability to recite the original version of Star Wars line
for line, with optional sound effects. ("Ooteenee!") This idea goes down
easy with us Americans especially, because although we're actually a bunch
of lazy slobs, we like to think that at any time we could rise up from
the couch, throw on a few clothes, and go out and change the world, just
as all those first-generation immigrants did in the past. If we happen
to wake up one morning with a single-minded obsession for sculpting or
football or pork belly futures there's no reason we can't become the
greatest pork belly futures guy ever.

It's a very positive philosophy, but unfortunately I know of at least
two cases where it breaks down. One is long distance running. This year
I decided to run my first marathon. I ran cross-country track in high
school and in the years since I've watched a lot of marathon coverage
from my couch, so I felt I was ready. Now, I never thought running a
marathon would be easy, but I always assumed I could do it. First of
all, my sister-in-law did it. You would think that if the average
sister-in-law can finish a marathon--and between you and me I think
calling her "average" is being a little generous--certainly I can do it,
right? I figured the worst that would happen is that I would run the
first twenty-five or so miles and walk the rest. What I didn't count
on is what I call the reverse-Pinocchio effect, where at about mile
nineteen your Real Boy legs turn to wood and your dehydrated brain
causes you to hallucinate about blue fairies and, in severe cases,
spontaneously break into song.

Yeah yeah, for years I've heard marathoners whine about "hitting the
wall". I guess I just assumed they were speaking figuratively, and that
with a little more hard work and persistence, etc... Well, I'm here to
tell you they weren't kidding. I do not like hypothetical limitations
becoming real and physical. What's next for me, a glass ceiling? A
cellophane barricade? Latex, uh, obstructors of some kind? None of it
sits well with my "never quit until lunchtime" attitude. Which reminds
me, when I was fourteen I learned that it is possible to eat one too
many pancakes. That was a bummer of a revelation too.

The other problem with this theory--that perseverance, not extraordinary
talent, is the key to success--is that it doesn't explain the achievements
of someone like Bach. J.S. Bach is one of only two reasons I believe in a
higher power, the other one being that if I didn't, I wouldn't get free
glazed donut holes every Sunday morning. This is a guy who banged out a
fifty page cantata every week for years. You look at one of these things
and the page is so dense with notes that roll on and on, up and down,
doing loop-d-loops--it's indecipherable. And then you hear the Vancouver
Chamber Choir performing "Gloria In Excelsis Deo" and you want to cry,
it's so gorgeous and perfect. No doubt he worked hard too, but clearly
Bach was colluding with angels. When I die I may find myself in a cold,
dark pit, but if I hear a Bach Chorale somewhere in the distance I'll
know all is well. If I hear Hillary Duff I'll know I'm in deep yogurt.

No historian I spoke to would say whether J.S. Bach did any long
distance running, which I find highly suspicious. But had he run
marathons I feel sure Bach would have won every race, despite the wig
and the flannel robes. Not by training harder than the others, but by
cheating--using his extraordinary talents and heavenly connections to
place invisible barriers in front of his opponents, or slip NyQuil into
their Gatorade...

Hmmmmmm.

John Lengyel lives in Cohasset, but is currently in New York City singing
"I've Got No Strings" on Broadway, though according to the marathon
route map he's supposed to be on Fifth Avenue.