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Dame Valerie Adams: From 5 to 10 in Life and Sport

Reaching for the Stars: The Belief Journey of Dame Valerie Adams

Dame Valerie Adams, one of New Zealand’s most celebrated athletes, was not always destined for greatness. If she had rated her early life, it might have been a 5 out of 10 — potential present, but hidden behind hardship. Born to a large family in Auckland, she faced overwhelming challenges: the loss of her mother when she was just 15, limited resources, and a future that looked uncertain. Valerie could have accepted a life that stayed safely in the middle — average, predictable, unremarkable.

But the number 10 beckons the brave.

It speaks of completion, mastery, stepping into fullness. The number 10 whispers: You were made to finish the race you began.

Valerie’s transformation started with a shift in belief. When a school coach noticed her raw power and encouraged her to try shot put, she listened. Not because she already believed she could be the best — but because she decided to believe that she could become more than what life had handed her.

Every throw was a declaration: My story is rising.

She trained relentlessly — early mornings, late nights, pushing her strength beyond its limits. At first, her progress was slow. A 5 turned into a 6. A 6 into a 7. But belief compounds. It multiplies momentum.

Our ten fingers help us grasp the world around us. Valerie used hers to grip the heavy sphere that would become the symbol of her breakthrough. Each spin, each release carried her closer to the life she envisioned — a life that felt like a 10.

As she stepped onto the world stage, something extraordinary happened. She didn’t just compete — she dominated. Multiple world championships. Paralympic medals as a coach and mentor. Gold at the Olympic Games. Recognition as one of the greatest female shot putters in history.

Yet the most powerful part of her story is what happened behind the medals.

Valerie faced surgeries, personal losses, and moments where doubt could have crushed her momentum. But when the number 10 becomes your identity — when you commit to completing what you started — disappointment doesn’t define you; it refines you.

Like the noble gases with their “magic number” of 10 electrons forming perfect stability, Valerie reached a state of balance and strength — not because her life was easy, but because she believed it could be complete.

She became a champion not only in sport, but in spirit.

Today, Dame Valerie Adams stands as living proof that a mid-range life score is not a verdict — it is a starting point. A place where belief waits to be awakened.

A 5 out of 10 life is not the end of the story.

It is the moment before the rise.

Her journey invites you to ask:
What number are you settling for — and what number are you meant for?

Valerie believed she was made for more.

And when belief rises, life follows.

Your turn toward 10 begins the moment you say:
I will not stay where I started.

Rising Toward 10: The Transformation of Oprah Winfrey

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Before Oprah Winfrey became one of the most influential women in the world, her life was not a “10.” It wasn’t even close. If she were to score her early years, she might have given them a 4 out of 10—survival, not success. Oprah was born into poverty, abused as a child, and shuffled between households where love was present but stability often was not. Her schooling was inconsistent, and her confidence wavered under the weight of rejection and trauma. Life seemed stuck in the single digits—small dreams, small expectations, small belief.

But the number 10 holds a secret: it is both an ending and a beginning. It marks the point where a cycle has been completed and a new one begins. For Oprah, her transformation started with a shift in belief. She dared to think: What if my life could be more? What if I could upgrade my story?

Her belief became her foundation. She decided that her voice mattered—not because others told her so, but because she chose to believe it. She began speaking on radio, then television, leaning into authenticity instead of imitation. Where many tried to fit inside the mold of what a host “should” be, Oprah allowed her compassion, vulnerability, and curiosity to guide her. Belief took her from a 4 to a 5, then a 6, and eventually far beyond.

What changed? Not the world around her—at least not at first. She changed. Her belief system changed. She understood that the number 10 was not just a score, but a symbol: the moment when inner completeness allows outer transformation.

Our ten fingers gave humanity a way to count. They taught us cycles and systems. In the same way, Oprah used her hands—her work, her giving, her persistence—to build a new life. With each step she took in faith, she added a new point to her score: education, opportunity, courage, purpose. Eventually, her life didn’t just reach a 10—she built a life that allowed others to reach their own tens as well.

Like the noble gases with their “magic number” of 10 electrons bringing stability, Oprah found balance in helping others. The success of The Oprah Winfrey Show wasn’t just ratings; it was the power of healing conversations, emotional breakthroughs, and shared humanity. She created a space where completeness was possible, even for those who had broken beginnings.

The number 10 reminds us that we are called to more—that endings create room for rebirth. Oprah’s story is proof that perfection isn’t about flawlessness; it’s about fullness. A full life. A life believed into existence.

You may feel like your story is a 4, 5, or 6 right now. But the number 10 isn’t waiting for you at the finish line. It starts the moment you decide your score can rise. When belief expands, so does life. Every thought becomes a step upward. Every act of faith becomes a point in your favor.

Oprah discovered the magic of 10. And so can you.

Vicki’s Dream: Coins and Family in Republic

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Republic, a small town in Northeast Washington, began as Eureka Gulch in the 1890s. Back then, the land was rich with gold and timber, drawing miners and loggers. They built rough-hewn cabins, narrow streets, and saloons that never seemed to close. By 1900, the town had changed its name to Republic, reflecting the independent spirit of its people.

The heart of Republic became its architectural landmarks. Kaufman Cabin, built in 1896, still stands, a reminder of the town’s rugged beginnings. The Republic Cemetery offers sweeping views of the valley, the Sanpoil River, and the Kettle Range. The landscape has always shaped the people who live there—practical, resilient, and deeply tied to the land.

Amidst this history, a young woman named Vicki Dunn made her mark one summer. Vicki had grown up in Republic, the daughter of a stern but kind father, Henry Dunn, who was known for his collection of old coins. Henry had a sharp eye for detail and a deep respect for history. His coins, neatly stored in velvet-lined boxes, were his pride and joy.

Vicki, restless in the slow rhythm of small-town life, decided to leave for Spokane one July. She carried a small part of her father’s coin collection with her, hoping to sell it online. Henry had reluctantly agreed, his words lingering in her mind: “Coins hold stories, Vicki. Don’t sell the wrong ones.”

In Spokane, Vicki rented a tiny room and listed the coins on eBay. At first, sales were slow, but soon, interest grew. Collectors messaged her with offers, questions, and stories about their own collections. Vicki found the work tedious. She missed the familiar streets of Republic, the cool air of the Kettle Range, and the sound of the Sanpoil River. At night, she dreamed of her family. In one dream, her father’s voice echoed: “Not all coins are for selling, Vicki. Some hold more than value.”

After two weeks, Vicki’s dreams grew vivid and unsettling. She saw her father’s weathered hands, her mother’s quiet smile, and her younger brother, Leo, staring at an empty table. She woke up one night with a decision: she would go back. The coins, the city, and the online marketplace felt hollow compared to the pull of home.

Vicki’s return to Republic wasn’t as she expected. Her mother hugged her tightly. Leo grinned and asked her about Spokane. Henry, however, stood silent. “Did you bring back what’s left?” he asked.

“Yes, Dad,” Vicki said, handing him the unsold coins. “But I sold some. I… I needed to try.”

Henry nodded but said nothing. The family gathered for dinner that night, the air thick with unspoken words. Vicki explained her dreams and how they had drawn her home.

“Dreams are tricky,” Leo said. “They’re not always about what you think.”

Henry spoke finally. “What did you learn, Vicki?”

Vicki thought for a moment. “That it’s not just about selling. Coins are more than money. They’re a part of something bigger.”

“Good,” Henry said. “Then you understand.”

The family’s conversations grew warmer over the following days, but Vicki sensed an unease in her father. One evening, Henry revealed a secret. Among the coins Vicki had sold was a rare piece—a 1794 silver dollar. It wasn’t just valuable; it had been given to Henry by his own father.

“I should’ve told you,” Henry admitted. “But I wanted you to learn. Now, we’ll have to find it again.”

Vicki felt a pang of guilt but also determination. She contacted the buyer, a collector named Victor, who lived in Seattle. Vicki explained the coin’s significance and offered to buy it back. Victor, intrigued, agreed to meet.

Vicki and Henry made the journey to Seattle. Victor was a soft-spoken man with a passion for history. “This coin is special,” he said. “I’d planned to keep it, but your story changes things.”

Victor returned the coin without accepting payment. “Sometimes, history needs to stay where it belongs,” he said.

Back in Republic, Vicki and Henry decided to start a new project. Together, they created a small museum in town, showcasing the coin collection and other artifacts from Republic’s past. They called it the Spirit of Republic Museum, a place to preserve the town’s history and share its stories with others.

Visitors came, drawn by the exhibits and the tales Vicki and Henry shared. The museum became an architectural landmark in its own right, a symbol of the town’s enduring spirit. Vicki’s month-long journey had brought her back to her roots, with a deeper understanding of her family and the place they called home.