The real gift here lies in what Reeve strips away—the cape, the extraordinary birthright, the special powers that let us off the hook. By locating heroism in *perseverance* rather than in triumph, he suggests that the mother working three jobs to keep her family housed, the friend who shows up to listen after his own devastating day, the researcher who fails ninety-nine times before the breakthrough—these people are already living the definition. What matters isn't whether you overcome the obstacle, but whether you keep moving toward it despite the weight. Reeve himself knew this intimately, speaking these words from his wheelchair after his accident, which is why they don't feel like inspirational platitudes but rather hard-won knowledge about what strength actually costs.