I was born to be an athlete. My father prides himself on being an accomplished runner, possessing stamina, strength, and height. My mother was a D1 recruited volleyball player that had a 36" vertical jump and the power that most grown men fall short of possessing. Before I was born, it was decided that I would dedicate my life to athletics.
At the ripe young age of six years old, I had pretty much proven my natural ability. I ran faster, jumped higher, and developed skills easier than most of the other kids. At a young age, my parents pushed me to try many different sports until I finally found my perfect fit. After all, they did not want me to become a washed up 10-year-old without a cause. I was almost nine years old when I realized that I enjoyed adaptable skills and a team environment, which pulled me to volleyball.
At a young age, I felt ecstatic traveling to what I thought were exotic places like Atlanta or Louisville to compete in tournaments. There was nothing I would rather be doing than playing the game that I love. I lived in hotel rooms and gave all of my free time to honing my skills. I would practice four times a week and condition for two, and while this grew increasingly stressful as homework loads grew heavier, it didn't matter because I was living the dream.
I reaped many benefits from years as a gym rat, and I learned important skills, such as discipline and cooperation. I experienced the trials and tribulations when striving for a goal and the well-needed relief when achieving it. The experience of devastation and of spending every last drop of energy only to come up short kept me up many nights and made me think of any way to not feel that pain again. But even with the suffering, there are many moments that this game has brought to my life that I would be a different person without experiencing.
At one point, it was perfection, and I had everything I could have wanted, but as I got older, my feelings changed. It's not hard to let a game take over your life; and the game of volleyball seemed to consume me so fast. For years I spent three days a week in team practice, two days skill specialized, and two days conditioning. Tournaments had a funny way of falling on the same weekends as dances, family gatherings, friends homecomings, and other important events in my life. It may have taken many years, but I started to feel that dreaded sensation that many athletes realize—that of being "burned out. " I was overwhelmed and did not have an infatuation with the sport like I used to. My feelings towards my once beloved volleyball are not fully formed, but I have come to the realization that this is not what I want for myself anymore. What I once saw as my life and defined myself as is no longer what I do or who I am.
