Besides being an honest student, Michael Stone continued to help his parents with their farm chores. Michael’s persistence in striving for perfection was not only his obsession but his passion.

Mildred Stone, Michael’s mother, wished that he could relax a bit more and be that ‘free dreaming’ little boy. On one occasion she attempted to talk to him and his father about this, but his dad quickly interrupted, smiled and said, “You want something, work for it!”

All of Michael’s vaults today seemed to be the reward for his hard work. If Michael Stone was surprised, thrilled or arrogant about clearing the bar at 17 feet, you couldn’t tell. As soon as he landed on the inflated landing mat, and with the crowd on its feet, Michael immediately began preparing for his next attempt at flight. He seemed oblivious of the fact that he had just surpassed his personal best by three inches and that he was one of the final two competitors in the pole-vaulting event at the National Junior Olympics.

Michael cleared the bar at 17 feet and 2 inches and 17 feet 4 inches; again he showed no emotion. Constant preparation and determination were his vision. As he lay on his back and heard the crowd groan, he knew the other vaulter had missed his final jump. He knew it was time for his final jump. Since the other vaulter had fewer misses, Michael needed to clear this vault to win. A miss would get him second place. Nothing to be ashamed of, but Michael would not allow himself the thought of not winning first place.

He rolled over and did his ritual of three finger-tipped push-ups. He found his pole, stood and stepped on the runway that led to the most challenging event of his seventeenyear-old life.

The runway felt different this time. It startled him for a brief moment. Then it all hit him like a wet bale of hay. The bar was set at nine inches higher than his personal best. “That’s only one inch off the National record,” he thought. The intensity of the moment filled his mind with anxiety. He began shaking off the tension from his body. It wasn’t working. He became more tense. “Why is this happening to me now?” he thought. He began to get nervous. Fear would be a more accurate description. What was he going to do? He had never experienced these feelings. Then out of nowhere, and from the deepest depths of his souls, he envisioned his mother. Why now? What was his mother doing in his thoughts at a time like this? It was simple. His mother always used to tell him whenever he felt tense, anxious or even scared, to take deep breaths.

So he did. Along with shaking the tension from legs, he gently laid his pole at his feet. He began to stretch out his arm and upper body. The light breeze that was once there was now gone. He could feel a trickle of cold sweat running down his back. He carefully picked up his pole. He felt his heart pounding. He was sure the crowd did, too. The silence was deafening. When he heard the singing of some distant robins in flight, he knew it was his time to fly.

As he began sprinting down the runway, something felt wonderfully different, yet familiar. The surface below him felt like the country road he used to dream about. The rocks and chunks of dirt, the visions of the golden wheat fields seemed to fill his thoughts.