I say it all the time.
“I used to be an athlete.”
It rolls off the tongue in a normal fashion, and it’s often my answer when people ask about my work ethic, my abnormally broad shoulders, my high pain threshold, and my minimal tolerance for bullsh*t.
I say it all the time, like there’s nothing backwards, negative, or self-deprecating about it. Like it’s not a blatantly wrong and misguiding statement. Like something has come across my life and sterilized it, pulling that athlete out of me, and leaving me helpless and hollowed from the years of hard work that are now so removed from my everyday life.
I say it all the time, and I shouldn’t. Because there really isn't anything past tense about it.
Through the stresses, the struggles, and the self-doubt, I forget. I forget what I’ve put myself through to be who I am; I forget the hard work I’ve put in, and the pain I’ve withstood; I forget that I’m unstoppable. There is an athlete inside of me who’s a fighter, who doesn’t settle, and who – above all else – believes in herself.
And I need to be more like her.
I need to embrace her and to channel her through the meltdowns and the uncertainty. When I look in the mirror, I need to see more of that athlete – the one who fought through impossible workouts and picked up heavy things, just for the sake of putting them back down. The one who planked for 6 minutes, did box jumps until her legs shut down, and who never liked pushups (but did them anyway). The one who woke up every morning and took care of herself because it was an obligation, not an option.
So, to my inner athlete:
I know you’re still there. Through the criticism and insecurity: stay strong. You are strong, and I know that because I’ve seen your perseverance. You’ve been resilient amidst adversity, and you've shown your grit when sh*t got hard. And you’ve always challenged yourself. You gave yourself to your goals, you were dedicated to your (seemingly impossible) dreams, and you stopped at nothing.
So dedicate yourself to loving you – the you, you've become – just as you are. Dedicate your hard work to self-love, just as you dedicated yourself to your team and to those girls. Give yourself a chance to be great again. Without the uniforms and the races and the medals. This time, do it for you, by looking in the mirror and by knowing that you’re enough. Go for a run, kick a$$ at spin class, beat the crap out of something (or someone) at boxing; and throughout that time, don’t forget to breathe. Don’t forget just how powerful you are, simply because you’re you.
Because you are an athlete.
Inside and out.