My knee is as strong as it was before, if not stronger, and it's

Hear the determined and resilient words of Picabo Street, champion of the slopes: “My knee is as strong as it was before, if not stronger, and it's a matter of getting my leg strong. I lost six years of strength in about six months' time, so it's going to take another year or two to get that leg back up to full strength, but I'm good to go so far.” These words are not only about the healing of flesh, but about the endurance of the spirit. They reveal to us the mystery of human recovery: that what is broken may be remade, that what is weakened may be forged anew, and that even in setback lies the seed of triumph.

The ancients knew that the body is both fragile and resilient. The warrior who falls in battle may be scarred, but in rising again, his scars become his honor. Achilles had his vulnerable heel, and yet he strode into combat with unmatched courage. So too, Picabo speaks of her knee — once broken, now restored — and reminds us that strength is not merely what we are given at birth, but what we rebuild after loss. For the true test of greatness is not in never falling, but in rising after the fall with greater resolve.

Her words also bear witness to the swiftness of loss and the slowness of rebuilding. She tells us: “I lost six years of strength in about six months’ time.” How quickly the body forgets, how swiftly decline can come! And yet, she does not speak in despair. She accepts the long road ahead: “another year or two” of work, of patience, of relentless training. This is the wisdom of the ancients as well: that anything of value is slow to grow. A mighty oak takes decades to reach its height, and the pyramids rose stone by stone. So too the human body, and even more the human soul, regains its glory only through steady perseverance.

History gives us countless mirrors of this truth. Consider Nelson Mandela, who lost twenty-seven years of freedom in prison. In a single sweep of chains, he was robbed of the strength that freedom gives. And yet, with patience and unyielding will, he emerged stronger — not weaker — and became the father of a new nation. Picabo’s story of a weakened leg becoming strong again is but a smaller reflection of this universal pattern: that the human spirit can endure great loss, and through endurance, turn loss into strength.

Her declaration, “I’m good to go so far,” shines like a beacon of hope. For even on the long road of recovery, even when the summit lies far ahead, there is joy in progress, joy in the journey. This is no small thing. Too many despair when the results are not immediate, when the path stretches long before them. But the wise rejoice in each step, knowing that the journey itself is the forge of the spirit. To be “good to go so far” is to bless the present moment, even as the heart longs for future strength.

The lesson is clear: setbacks will come to all, and what is built in years may be lost in months. But do not despair when loss visits you. Instead, rise with patience, accept the slow work of rebuilding, and know that through trial you may become not only as strong as before, but stronger. For every challenge is a furnace, and those who endure emerge tempered, sharpened, and more resilient than they were before.

Practical action lies before us. When faced with injury, failure, or loss, do not demand immediate restoration. Set your heart on steady work, on daily steps, on patience with yourself. Celebrate progress, however small, and let hope sustain you when the goal seems distant. And above all, remember that strength is not lost forever when the body or soul falters; it waits to be reclaimed by courage, discipline, and faith.

So let Picabo Street’s words resound like an anthem: “My knee is as strong as it was before, if not stronger… I lost six years of strength in six months, but I will rebuild.” May her determination remind you that weakness is never the end of the story, and that every one of us, in our own way, can rise again — stronger, steadier, and unbroken in spirit.