Great. That is all I wanted to be growing up. The specific medium of greatness didn't matter; I just wanted to reach that level. 

Whether it was for the fame, the recognition, the feeling of accomplishment, whatever it was, I wanted it. Naturally, sports were the first realm of greatness that attracted me, so I thought I might achieve it through there. 

Failure was not an option. In middle school, I would go to the track on the weekends and run more sprints for football. In high school, I was doing air squats in my bedroom and using our backyard stairs for agility drills.

 Being named an All-State running back, I was successful enough to be recruited by division 1 schools. I decided to attend the United States Military Academy at West Point. Maybe not the greatest school for NFL aspirations when I arrived, but a long history of great people who attended appealed to me. I continued the grind, doing extra footwork and agility drills with the other running backs. Whenever I had free time I was watching the highlights of Walter Payton, Barry Sanders, Reggie Bush, Stephen Jackson; any great running back. I would visualize and practice their moves. 

I worked hard enough to earn All-Independent (West Point Football is not in a conference) and Academic All American honors as a junior and a finalist for the Bill Campbell Trophy as a senior. My college career culminated with a pro day where the Jets attended, and I had a phone call with the Falcons. 

That was it, my whole life as I saw it