Understanding my place in the grand scheme of the universe has helped me keep my own successes in perspective, but it hasn’t made me so modest that I can no longer bear applause. I bear it just fine, and actually get a kick out of the hoopla around launch and landing. Still, I also know that most people, including me, tend to applaud the wrong things: the showy, dramatic record-setting sprint rather than the years of dogged preparation or the unwavering grace displayed during a string of losses. Applause, then, never bore much relation to the reality of my life as an astronaut, which was not
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