Tag: Mind Games

At lunch yesterday, my aunt asked me if I felt like the grandma of my team. I’m not the oldest here, but I do have a few years on my mid-distance training partners, and many of my competitors. It’s probably why I’ve been thinking recently about what it means to be an older athlete.
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Track culture (like everything?) has a love affair with youth. Even though people on the medal stand range in age, the hype machine (and $$) tends to focus on young phenoms. Because a young star doesn’t just have talent, she has POTENTIAL.

In a sport that exists at the edge of human performance, we are constantly reminded of our fallibility. People lose, records stand, or they are barely broken. But in the world of potential, ability is limitless. It’s only bounded by the imagination.
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Potential’s appeal sneaks into other areas of life. In my imaginary future, I can be perfect. If I don’t hit this year’s resolution, I have the next one, or the one after that.

But an older athlete can no longer comfort herself with the illusion of more time. There is only this day, this week, this year. Which means I no longer deal in potential. That’s not to say I don’t plan. I just don’t delude myself into thinking there is a next time. The question is not only what can I be, but what can I do now, where I am, with what I have.
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Of course, Now is all we ever have. It might not be as sexy, but it’s real, and it’s there for the taking. As they say, What will you do with your one wild and precious moment?

Photo by @cortneywhite_

I usually cringe if I read things I wrote a few years ago. But recently someone sent me this one, from October 2016. I still like it after three years, I even felt a little inspired re-reading it. It reminds me of that Olympic year mindset.
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So here’s a part of my “letter to the runner on race morning,” in honor of all the people preparing for this weekend’s Chicago Marathon ( @chimarathon )!

You did this. You. Look back at the months, years even, of preparation, and feel a warm satisfaction rising through your body. You woke up to run on cold mornings (or hot days!). You pushed through crazy long runs when all you wanted to do was stop. You rose to the challenge of workouts. You said no to shiny temptations, to nights out or extra time on your feet. You surrounded yourself with supportive people, or had the hard conversations when a relationship was causing issue.

“Champions do not become champions when they win the event, but in the hours, weeks, months and years that they spend preparing for it. The victorious performance is merely the demonstration of their championship character.”

Things may be hard, but you ARE the kind of athlete who does hard things.
Things may be scary, but you ARE the kind of athlete who faces fear.
You have proven this to yourself, again and again.

Think of all of that hard work, all of that time, and be proud. Let that fill you. That is your work, your opus, and it is an achievement. Know that we are proud of you. Now, go dance at your party.

Relentless
Undeniable
I Believe
Not Alone.

We said goodbye to Guinness a few weeks ago. I tried to process it privately, but I think in not being more open, I let my sadness linger. And I find myself without the desire to do any social media or outward -facing posts. Putting down a dog that trusted you absolutely is just an awful feeling. I know that feeling will eventually turn to loving sadness, without the guilt. But I’m not quite there yet.

This is what I wrote on the gram when I finally posted: I loved this dog deeply. I feel as if my capacity for empathy has grown since caring for him. Through years that I have traveled and moved and spent a lot of time in new apartments, he was a constant companion. And now there is a hole in my day the size of a little curled up munchkin. I don’t know what to do with that except try and embody his joy. I smile more at squirrels and birds, I notice yummy smells, and I try to remember that every time someone I love comes into the room, it’s a cause for celebration. 🐾❤️