I wanted to go to medical school. But, I never got a college

In the humble and reflective words of Edwin Moses, there echoes the timeless struggle between dream and destiny: “I wanted to go to medical school. But, I never got a college scholarship.” These words, though simple, carry the weight of unfulfilled plans and the quiet power of transformation. For within them lies not disappointment, but revelation — the understanding that life, in its mysterious wisdom, often diverts us from the paths we plan, only to lead us to those we were meant to walk. Moses, who once aspired to heal the body, became instead a healer of spirit — a symbol of perseverance, discipline, and grace under pressure. His story stands as a testament to the ancient truth: the course of fate is not always straight, but it is always purposeful.

The meaning of this quote lies in the tension between intention and opportunity. Like many young souls, Moses dreamed of contributing to the world through study, compassion, and service — the work of a physician. Yet fate denied him the means, the college scholarship that would have opened the door. Many would have yielded then, resigning their dreams to circumstance. But Moses, instead of turning bitter, turned inward — transforming disappointment into determination. What was closed in one realm opened in another: the world of athletics, where his gifts of focus and discipline would soon transcend the boundaries of sport. His words, then, are not a lament, but a meditation on how life’s detours are often disguised callings.

The origin of this reflection can be traced to Moses’s youth in the United States during the 1970s. Raised with an affinity for both academics and athletics, he was drawn toward the sciences and imagined himself in the white coat of a doctor. Yet, as fate would have it, he found himself on a different kind of path — a track of cinder and sweat, lined not with books but with hurdles. There, his natural precision, born of the same discipline that would have made him a great physician, led him to become one of the greatest hurdlers in history. For nearly a decade, Moses was undefeated — forty-seven consecutive victories, two Olympic gold medals, and a reign marked by composure and control. In truth, he did not abandon his dream of mastery; he simply changed its form. His arena was not the hospital, but the stadium; his medicine, not surgery, but excellence itself.

This transformation mirrors the stories of the ancients, who too were guided by unseen currents toward their destinies. Consider the tale of Hippocrates, the father of medicine, who once wished to be a philosopher. It was only through observing the frailty of human life that he found his calling to heal. Likewise, Edwin Moses, denied the path of medicine, found another way to uplift humanity — by showing what relentless discipline can achieve. The ancient Greeks believed in moira, the thread of fate spun by divine hands. Though one may resist or question it, that thread leads every soul to its appointed end. So too did Moses’s destiny reveal itself, not in the classroom, but in the rhythm of footsteps, the measured breath, the perfection of movement — the science of motion itself.

The emotional essence of Moses’s words lies in humility. They carry no anger, no regret, only understanding. For the wise know that life’s refusals often conceal its greatest gifts. To say “I wanted to go to medical school” is to acknowledge one’s humanity — the tenderness of desire, the fragility of dreams. But to follow it with “I never got a scholarship” is to accept that limitation with grace. This is not surrender, but acceptance, the mature strength of one who knows that failure is not the end of the path, but its beginning. From such humility is born greatness — for the river that bends does not break, and the spirit that adapts finds new purpose in its flow.

We see the same lesson in the story of Albert Einstein, who, as a young man, was rejected from several academic institutions, deemed too unorthodox for formal study. Yet it was outside those walls that he revolutionized physics, proving that genius thrives not through privilege, but through persistence. Moses’s journey is cut from the same cloth. Denied one kind of education, he pursued another — the education of perseverance. The hurdles before him became metaphors for life’s barriers, and through his mastery of them, he taught generations that the measure of greatness is not what doors open easily, but how one moves when they do not.

The lesson we may take from these words is eternal: do not despair when one dream falters, for another, perhaps greater, may be waiting. Life is not a straight ascent, but a series of turns — some sharp, some gentle — each leading us closer to who we truly are. The key is to move forward with faith, to labor with love, and to see every obstacle not as punishment, but as preparation. When fortune closes a door, build strength enough to leap over the wall. When denied one calling, listen for another. For what matters most is not the path we choose, but the heart we carry upon it.

So let the wisdom of Edwin Moses be passed down to all who stand before uncertainty: the path you did not plan may be the one that perfects you. The dream of medicine taught him compassion, but the path of athletics taught him endurance — and both, together, made him whole. Thus, remember this: when life says no, it may only be clearing the way for a greater yes. Accept, adapt, and advance — for destiny, like the hurdles on the track, is not there to stop you, but to show you how high you can rise.