The Special Olympics motto, 'Let me win, but if I cannot win, let

Host: The snow was falling thick and soft, muffling the world into a silence so perfect it felt like reverence. Under the pale blue light of dawn, the mountains rose like sleeping giants, their slopes carved with the scars of yesterday’s races.

Down at the base, the training camp was waking up — boards scraping, boots tightening, breath steaming in the frozen air. In the middle of it all stood Jack, bundled in a weathered jacket, watching the course stretch upward through the mist. His grey eyes followed each curve, each possibility.

Beside him, Jeeny adjusted her gloves, her brown eyes warm but fierce, the way people look when they’ve fought for something more than medals. The two of them stood at the starting line — not for a race, but for a conversation carved out of ice, wind, and will.

Between them, printed neatly on a laminated card pinned to the course post, were the words that had sparked the morning’s quiet:

“The Special Olympics motto, ‘Let me win, but if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt,’ really speaks to me because it embodies exactly what I have pursued in my life. Really, that's all any of us can hope for — a chance to be brave and to pursue a dream.” — Hannah Teter

Jeeny: softly, reading the words aloud “Let me be brave in the attempt.” She looks up at the slope, exhaling a slow cloud of air. “You know, I think that’s one of the purest lines ever written.”

Jack: half-smiling, tugging at his gloves “It’s also the most dangerous one. Being brave doesn’t mean you win. It means you accept the fall.”

Jeeny: grinning faintly “You always see the risk before the reward.”

Jack: shrugs, eyes on the mountain “Because I’ve met people who mistake bravery for blind optimism. They jump, but they forget to land.”

Jeeny: quietly “But isn’t that what courage really is? Jumping without certainty. Believing the fall might teach you more than the summit ever could.”

Host: The wind picked up, blowing snow in tiny spirals around their boots. The mountain groaned faintly — that deep, hollow sound of shifting ice. Jeeny’s breath caught the light, a soft halo of warmth against the cold.

Jack: after a pause “You really think bravery’s enough?”

Jeeny: nods slowly “I think it’s everything. You can’t control victory, but you can control the attempt.”

Jack: smirks softly “That’s poetic. But life doesn’t hand out medals for effort.”

Jeeny: turns to him, her voice firmer now “No, but it gives you peace for honesty — for knowing you showed up with everything you had. And sometimes, that’s worth more than gold.”

Jack: looks at her for a moment, then glances back toward the slope “You sound like someone who’s lost before.”

Jeeny: smiling faintly “Many times. But I stopped measuring success by trophies. Bravery became my scoreboard.”

Host: The sun began to crest the ridge, setting the snow aglow — silver at first, then gold. The mountain transformed from a cold challenge into something almost holy.

Jack squinted against the light, and for a moment, the struggle in his face softened.

Jack: quietly “You know, I envy people like Teter. They talk about bravery like it’s simple — like it’s just another choice you make before breakfast.”

Jeeny: softly “It’s not simple. It’s sacred. Bravery isn’t the absence of fear, Jack — it’s intimacy with it.”

Jack: half-laughs “Intimacy with fear. That’s a hell of a relationship.”

Jeeny: smiles “The longest one we’ll ever have.”

Jack: leans on his snowboard, thoughtful “You ever think maybe bravery isn’t just about chasing dreams? Maybe it’s about surviving the ones that collapse?”

Jeeny: after a long pause “That’s the truest kind. The kind that still gets up after the avalanche.”

Host: The sound of distant laughter floated down the slope — other riders warming up, shouting encouragement, chasing the day. Their energy was bright, but the stillness between Jack and Jeeny held something deeper — that quiet space where reflection and resolve touch hands.

Jeeny: softly “When I was younger, I thought bravery was loud — like shouting against the wind, or standing on a podium. But now…” she trails off, looking at the mountain. “Now I think bravery’s just waking up and trying again after disappointment.”

Jack: nodding slowly “It’s the invisible kind. The private kind.”

Jeeny: quietly “Exactly. The kind no one claps for.”

Jack: after a pause “Teter said the motto embodied her life. Maybe that’s why people listen — not because she wins, but because she keeps showing up. Even when she doesn’t.”

Jeeny: smiles faintly “That’s why her words hit so hard. They remind us that every dreamer is an underdog.”

Host: The sunlight spread wider, painting the snow in blinding brilliance. Jeeny zipped her jacket and pulled her goggles down. Jack followed suit, both of them standing now like two small figures preparing to meet the impossible.

Jeeny: turning toward him, voice steady “You know, it’s not about conquering the mountain. It’s about learning to fall with grace.”

Jack: smiling faintly “So, no fear?”

Jeeny: shakes her head “No — fear’s part of the dance. You just learn to lead.”

Jack: quietly, with a smirk “Then I hope the mountain knows how to follow.”

Jeeny: laughs softly “That’s the spirit.”

Host: The camera followed them as they stepped onto the snow, boards cutting the surface. The wind pressed against their backs — steady, encouraging. And as they started down the slope, the moment froze — not in time, but in meaning. Two people chasing courage, not victory.

The world blurred into motion: snow spraying, hearts pounding, laughter echoing.

At the bottom of the hill, they stopped — breathless, faces flushed from the cold and the rush. Jeeny’s eyes sparkled, and Jack’s smile was quiet but real.

Jack: softly, catching his breath “You were right. The fear never leaves. It just turns into momentum.”

Jeeny: grinning “Exactly. That’s bravery — motion despite uncertainty.”

Host: The camera panned upward, following the mountain now bathed fully in gold. The wind still moved, whispering through the peaks, carrying Hannah Teter’s words like a prayer for everyone who dared to try.

And as the scene faded, her voice — steady, compassionate, fearless — seemed to echo through the snow and sky:

That life is not a race for perfection,
but a series of attempts made with courage.

That winning is temporary,
but bravery endures,
because it’s the act of facing the unknown
when no one guarantees you’ll rise.

And when the world falls silent,
and the victories blur into years,
what remains — quietly, eternally —
is the bravery to try.

The mountain glowed,
and for one perfect moment,
pain and triumph became the same thing —
just two shades of courage
in the same breath of snow.