Abby Sunderland. Sixteen-years old. Wants to sail the world in a 40-foot sailboat. Alone. Without stopping. In pirate-infested waters.
Sasha Cohen. Twenty-five, seeks her third trip to the Olympic Games. Without having competed in four years.
Rachael Flatt. Seventeen, always the bridesmaid never the bride. Wins first National Figure Skating Championships and is on her way to Vancouver.

These women are not normal. They belong to a superstar gene pool. Few people understand their motivation, their drive. Including me. I admit, after reading about Sunderland's quest in this morning LA Times, I had my reservations about how sane this kid was and worse yet, what her parents must be thinking. My son is a sailor and I'd be lying if I said I didn't get a bit antsy when he sails in rough seas, even though there are fifty other boats beside him. It's just a natural reaction to being so small in something so big.

I'd love to sit down and ask this teenage sailing sensation what motivates her. What will she miss? Did she ever miss those things? How is her heart connected to the sea? How does that feel, exactly?
I'd ask the same thing of Rachael Flatt, who I personally cheered for last night. What propels her to lace up those skates everyday and go after another championships? Did she know that if she kept on digging, putting in the time, that eventually she'd come out on top? Or does she cross her fingers and hope that everyone else falls? I doubt that.

Maybe Cohen did. I don't think she stood much of a chance of making the Olympic team, but I was rooting for her. Mesmerized by her artistry--which is just another way of saying that this lady can move her body so that the music is her. But every elite athlete knows that performance can only come from practice. It's no fluke Flat