Like they say, never underestimate the power of the mind.
Thank you, everyone who shared personal stories of resilience when I asked for some on social media. Inspired by you, I finished the OCRWC World Championship 3k with a silver medal (my highest-ever finish at a world championship), despite losing sleep and emotional energy over my father‘s passing the week before.
And then, at 42 years-old and significantly older than my competition, I woke up the next morning, pushed aside all excuses not to toe the start line again, raced the 15k race (which ended up being 10 miles) up and down a steep mountainside, carried a 50lb sandbag over a rock quarry, and swung through monkey bars, right onto the world championship podium again.
When I thought perhaps I couldn’t do it, my heart reminded me that I could, as I remembered how many people are dealing with life obstacles far greater than my own.
“I’m so nervous I could cry,” I heard myself tell our six year-old as Tim dropped me off at the designated start line dropoff spot.
As I walked a half mile to the start, I told myself, “This will be hard, but you can do this. You’re committed. Just don’t start out too quickly and make it harder than it already is.
And then what did I do as soon as the race started? Started with a 6 minute and 40 second mile…oops. Race adrenaline made it feel easy, and even though I had purposely stayed 10-15 seconds behind the front pack of experienced ultrarunners, I had made a classic rookie mistake.
“That’s gonna hurt later.” I thought to myself, and followed it up with a slower-yet-still-way-too-fast-for-your-first-ultra 7-minute-paced second mile.
After settling in to a reasonable yet still strong pace, I stayed steady and feeling great for the first 18 miles, even up 4,000 feet of elevation to the top of Mt. Chuckanut.
But what goes up must come down, and the part that’s usually my favorite (running downhill) turned from whee to whoa halfway down the mountain as what felt like an army of fire ants stabbed my quads with each step, leaving me to dig deep for the last 10 or so miles, physically and mentally.
Ultras build grit. I’m so glad I did it. And I’m so glad it’s over. Much respect for people who do these often. Ultras are no joke, yet some people flew by me at the end of their race with huge smiles and kind words to me as I hobbled in. What a cool community.
Although my mom and dad would not consider themselves athletes, my grandma was another story…
She was the best athlete of all the girls AND boys in Surrey, B.C., and her dad, my great grandfather Jeremiah, was so confident that she, the oldest girl of his 14 children, would win the annual Surrey City grade school fitness competition, that he had a big trophy made, and he donated it for the winner. 🏆
The day of the competition came, and my grandma won it out-right, only to have the trophy given the first place boy, who had come in second place to my grandma. 😲
My great-grandpa was furious, but the city people stayed firm on giving it to second place since they were more comfortable giving it to a boy, as they always had. 😡
Even my mom, a 1950’s stay-at-home mom of nine children, says it was “disgusting” that they didn’t reward my grandma for her athletic efforts, simply because she was a girl. 😫
Props to my great-grandpa for supporting his daughter’s athletic efforts, a hundred years ago. 👍
This story reminds me both of how grateful I am to have the opportunities I have as a woman athlete, and of how much more work there is still to be done to support girls and women in sports…
One way to help support women’s sports is to watch them, so the network knows they elicit viewers. Even my old-fashioned 96 year-old dad has come around, saying that “Sue Bird is the best basketball player ever,” male or female, that he has ever seen. This is the same guy who, when I was in junior high and loving soccer, came home one day saying he couldn’t believe how “rough some women were playing soccer at the park,” shaking his head in disapproval. (Good thing he had never seen me play soccer – I was pretty scrappy myself.) 😅
And one way to support girls’ sports is to donate sports bras (if you happen to have a surplus, like I sometimes do) to a local girl’s high school team in a relatively poor neighborhood, since lack of proper attire is a large reason girls stop playing sports, an activity that is likely to keep them on the right track, feeling empowered…
To all the coaches and people who supported this little girl with raw talent and a fiery spirit, thank you. 😊
I have no idea where I would be today without the positive influence of sport in my life. ❤️
“Girl, age 7, soccer ball” dangled somewhere from a local church’s Christmas giving tree.
Sprinting downstairs Christmas morning, I rushed to see if Santa came this year – he did! I gingerly checked the pieces of paper with kids’ names laid on top of a row of unwrapped gifts.
“Dominic, Mary, Martin, Joey, Eddie, Maria, Zack, and Greg” – but no Rosie.
Santa forgot me!
I ran upstairs, sat on the toilet, and started to cry until my oldest brother, Eddie, told me my name had fallen off of my gift. In his hands, he held…a soccer ball! Brand new, and just my size!
“Come in,” I said through soggy tears, and my brother walked in carrying the most beautiful gift possible – a soccer ball! Brand new, and just my size!
My face lit up as I jumped off the toilet lid.
“Wow, thanks!” I hollered as I ran outside to play with my ball in the cold, my heart warm from soaring with joy.
Last night at a school crosswalk volunteers appreciation party, the head of the giving tree at my daughter’s school announced a request for more gifts/contributions, sharing that one family had asked for “socks and underwear.”
Socks and underwear?! Oof. We never had it THAT bad.
Although I love the idea of donating in one’s own community, if you would like to contribute to the family at my daughter’s school that requested socks and underwear, let’s shower them with much more. (Link here.)
So if you walk past a giving tree at a post office or grocery store with “ornaments” requesting gifts for kids, and wonder if contributing really makes a difference, believe me – it does.
We have the power to make add magic to a kid’s holiday! The kind person who paid for my soccer ball sure did, and I’ll never forget it.
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