Because of having some idle time, I opted to attend the state wrestling tournament at the Wells Fargo Arena. Iowa is noted for wrestling with Dan Gable its local hero having won a gold medal in the Freestyle Olympics. Iowa State and Iowa are always at the top of the list in the NCAA wrestling tournament. I was excited knowing I'd be watching some top high school wrestlers.

The city of Des Moines is pretty easy to get around in. They have a skywalk that allows pedesterians to cross high over streets and with the winter weather averaging 9 degrees in the morning in February walking in the comfort of an enclosed glass capsule is well worth it.

However, I too was once a wrestler and to cut weight I'd run late in the winter evenings just to tip the scale in my favor. You never forget the bite of wet winter winds in the country. The tournament was packed. I had to park several miles out because the parking lots were full. It reminded me of attending an Ohio State football game in Columbus. Finally, after zigzagging back and forth on top of the city streets I stood in front of Wells Fargo Arena. It took 15 minutes just to purchase a ticket.

I had to sit on the top floor at the arena. The session I had chosen had wrestlers from Double A schools going head to head. The one fifty two weight class was already in action and there were twelve mats and 24 wrestlers in constant action. It was hard just to focus on any one match for a few seconds. I sat at the edge of my seat and was drawn to the take-downs, reversals, and one point stand-ups.

It had been 30 years since I had attended a high school wrestling meet. The last one I had participated in was in 1978. I was winning my match at districts beating a top Oak Harbor wrestler until near the end of the third period when he squeezed his head out of my tight headlock for a reversal and back points. I walked off that mat a loser and had never stepped on a mat ever again.

While the talented wrestlers mesmerized me with their amazing wrestling moves, I was also left saddened. I recalled the song that played the final day of my wrestling career: "All we are is dust in the wind."

What was constant as I watched each match from high on top of the arena was two wrestlers who came in with high expectations and a dream left to fulfill and what I saw - if a lesser skilled wrestler made it through the three periods without succumbing to a pin - was one hand raised high above and one wrestler who walked off the mat dejected with his head held low.

It took me many years to realize that wrestling was such a small part of my life. And what I learned from watching those Iowa wrestlers that afternoon is that there is a difference between developing a special skill and talent versus discovering your true gift and calling.