Last year, I learned how a loss was my win. This year, I owe everything to it.
In a haze of excitement and adrenaline while accepting a James Beard Award in June—an Oscar-level honor for media covering food and beverage—I briefly mentioned that I didn’t “come home with the hardware” after a nomination in 2022. I thanked my wife and son, Good Beer Hunting colleagues, and KJ Kearney, who inspires me as a fellow Charleston native. Behind a podium and on the clock, there wasn’t time to explain how I also wanted to thank last year’s loss. But among all the smiles, texts, and tears of congratulations, I couldn’t help but appreciate what it had done for me.
I often joke about instances when I’ve set myself on a path, but come up short of a goal. That’s the bad news. The good is that immediately following those shortcomings, I’ve always reminded myself that even in loss, I belonged. On to the next round. It’s a bit masochistic, but the fading remnants of victory can be more important as the push needed to come out on top next time.
For me, it’s easier to fathom grief with this process because feeling a loss can set you on a different path. Will you “barbecue or mildew” in order to embrace progression or settle for the mission of yesterday? Dressed in a tuxedo, unused acceptance speech tucked in my pocket, loved ones watching from 1,000 miles away, last year’s loss gave me a glimpse of what I was capable of, opening my eyes to what new highs were possible.
I reached that height this year, winning a James Beard Award for journalism in the Foodways category. After hearing my name called to accept a medal and the recognition that came with it, I thought I’d be overflowing with tears. I envisioned myself giving an acceptance speech that was so moving, it would have done the same to the audience. Instead, after a pause to gather my thoughts, I simply felt humility filling my chest as if I just scored a game-winning touchdown. Ninety seconds later, I was off-stage.
All the success in my life—including reflecting on my own in this moment—is linked to years of playing football. It helped me view life’s peaks and troughs from an athlete’s perspective that no matter what happens, you live to play another down. Lessons come in victory and loss—no matter the outcome, you must continue your personal voyage to greatness, riding waves of reality.
On that stage and in this instance of truth, validation came in two forms. There’s the objective reality of success that comes from an award-winning victory. Then there’s the truth I’ve held inside for the past year: I belong. I channeled focus from loss, now turning it into confidence that I can use in the future.
After partying until 2 a.m. and an Uber ride to O’Hare International Airport with about two hours of sleep, I took time in my terminal to relax and enjoy all the movement around me: a father wrangles two daughters in play, an elderly woman zooms past in a wheelchair laughing with a Southwest employee pushing her, the sun slowly crawls upward on the horizon.
A new day had started, readying me for new possibilities, thanks to my losses. But I’m also ready for small moments of triumph, like embracing an eager 5-year old at home who I promised I’d take swimming. We have new plans and new goals to set.
Words + Photo by Jamaal Lemon