Dear Retired Athlete,

I know things are different now. You wake up and your joints ache a little more from the lack of running and jumping. You have to stretch a little longer in the morning to remind your body that, yes, you’re alive.

Who would’ve thought a lack of excessive exercise would actually hurt?

Working out altogether isn't how it used to be. Did you ever think you’d actually miss your coach yelling at you to work harder?

I know you couldn’t wait for practice to end and to live a life outside of the field but now it’s gone and it's okay to miss it. To miss the days of commitment, motivation, and unity.

When nothing mattered but the well-being of your family, the family you didn’t necessarily choose but couldn’t live without during the trials and tribulations of this team sport. The bruises, yellow cards, lousy refs and smell of fresh cut grass on those late nights.

They’re gone and out of reach.

Now, you when you attend games, you're sidelined. Not the kind of sidelined that could potentially lead to being subbed in either. You’ve been relocated to the bleachers.

The energy is much lower than what you’re used to. And when someone misses a catch or takes a wrong step you seem to be the only one screaming with flailing arms.

The crowd might laugh like you're just a crazy fan, but really you’re dying a little inside. Watching the game happen without you in it is painful, almost suffocating. You just want to tell the players what to do… or better yet rip their jersey off and take over their position. You're tense, and you're breathing has changed. The bleachers feel foreign and you never truly feel as comfortable as you did covered in dirt.

I’d like to tell you it gets easier, but I’m not sure if anything will ever exactly fill that void inside you. The feeling of being a part of something that meant something so much more, you were invincible.

The feeling of being covered in a mixture of mud and grass and eating whatever you want because hey, you burn more calories than you take in anyway. The moments of pure bliss when you achieve something you didn't think your body was capable of.

Times of being looked up to and relied on.

Being an athlete and a teammate is something I think we all take for granted. And when it’s gone, it’s gone. You can’t fully appreciate all the long practices and lack of social life in those moments because you think it’ll last forever. And when it doesn't you don't ever really feel complete.

So if you’re still in it, in this crazy game the rest of us thirst for, inhale every ounce of it. Do not take it for granted and maybe swallow it up a little longer. Take a longer stretch and a few more mental pictures for the rest of us, who’d take back whatever time we could to throw on that jersey one last time.

Because let me say it almost breaks your heart to sit on the sidelines and just simply watch.

But, for the rest of the retired athletic population remember this: Once an athlete, always an athlete.

Although the time has passed and the game has gone on without you, that fire inside you, it’ll never die.

So don’t hesitate to close that chapter, even if it hurts. Because closing it will allow for new ventures that can potentially fill the void.

So take that energy and channel it.

Use it.

Create with it.

Explore with it.

Whatever you do, don’t let it fade.