Don't Ask...

I've come a long way since college in how I deal with disappointing performances. There was a time back in my younger years where my friends and family would tremble in fear if they had to be around me after I had performed poorly. I was the type of person that took competition seriously and always expected the most out of myself, so when I didn't live up to my expectations it made me angry. I then thought it was my responsibility to make everyone around me suffer through my emotions until an appropriate amount of time had passed and I had thoroughly milked the disappointment for all it was worth.

Well, luckily, I've grown up. To an extent. I do have such a better perspective on how to view competitions and I have come to realize that living in the past does absolutely nothing for your future. Sometimes you simply have a bad day. It's a fact of life. Other times you screw up and the best you can do is learn from it in order for it to make you better in the future. But when you sulk, throw a fit, and make yourself a living hell to be around, all you do is make yourself and those around you miserable for no reason.

Like I said, I've grown up a lot. What used to be two days of sulking, is now down to about 20 minutes. I accept that it wasn't my day, I try to objectively analyzed what happened to the best of my ability, and then I put it behind me. But what I have not grown out of is my dislike of chatting about disappointing performances. I hate it. To this day, if someone asks "How'd it go?" , when it didn't go well, they will get a rolling of the eyes, a mumbling under my breath, and a quick change of subject. I expect those close to me to learn that cue and quickly move on. If you'd like to avoid that awkwardness, my suggestion is to investigate beforehand whether or not I would be pleased with my performance and decide after that to ask how it went at your own risk. The only reason I want to discuss it at all is if it's with someone who can actually help me figure out some things. But just to sit and chit chat about why I sucked that day? Not my thing.

So if you were planning on asking me how my opening weekend went, don't bother. I am giving you the proverbial eye roll and muttering under my breath. I'm not mad about it, I'm no longer obsessing about it, but one thing is for sure--I don't want to talk about it. :)

Undercover Supporters

The following comments were left by a fan of mine on three separate posts yesterday. Someone who thinks I'm awful and will never accomplish any of my goals spent a good amount of time reading my blog (the posts were from different times of the year) and then wanted to share what they thought of me. To him(or her), I say thank you.

-No, you're not THAT important as you are only known because you've gotten a link to T&FN. I follow the sport and can't think of anything that you've done that was significant, for if you did I would know about it.

-You are not going to make it to London, that is certain. Many try and after all these years, it's clear that you don't have it. Nothing personal, just a fact. Anyone who wastes as much time as you do on a silly meaningless blog is not putting her energy into the right places. Having confidence is one thing, but you've gone overboard and unfortunately your friends aren't real friends because they would tell you. How sad. Fabulous life?

-I am not Tobias, but you really make too much out of yourself and bring it on yourself. It's not THAT hard but you want people to think so. I know many top athletes who work WAY harder than you and complain less. I live in Michigan btw, come and visit if you want a REAL workout. Btw, you are not that important but you surely want to believe it to justify your actions.

Any time someone leaves a comment on my blog, I read it. If I wasn't willing to accept the feedback then I may as well have a diary stashed under my bed. I am always grateful for the people who acknowledge my random thoughts, who give me words of encouragement, and who provide different forms of motivation, sometimes in the most unknowing ways. The only thing that took some time getting used to, is the motivation that came in the form of negative comments. At first it used to ruffle my feathers something fierce and I would be appalled at the audacity of some folks to take time out of their lives to write rude and unjustifiable comments anonymously. The anonymous part is what got me most of all. Sure, you don't have to think I'm the best thing since sliced bread, but if you want to tell me how UN-awesome I am, the least you can do is sign your name to it. Own it. But more often than not, haters on the web don't work that way. They come up with their own reasons why you will fail or why you shouldn't try, and they feel it's their duty to share it with you. But now I've learned to be grateful for my anonymous' commenters. I read their comments and I don't bat an eyelash. I love the fact that I remain unaffected by people who don't believe in me, because it shows me how much I've grown to believe in myself and how that belief has deepened over the years, regardless of what I have or have not accomplished, and regardless of what anyone else may think--good or bad. I don't gain my confidence from anyone else so it would certainly make no sense for me to lose it over anyone either.


I learned a long time ago that you only need two people to believe in you in order to accomplish something. You and God. Anybody else is icing on the cake…and in my world, anyone who doesn't is the cherry.

Forms of Torture

Yesterday I was proud of myself for doing something I hardly ever do. I quit. A workout, that is. I just stopped midway through, walked back to my bag and took off my spikes, then marched myself right into the training room. You would think this would be an easy decision to make, but i assure you it's not. Not for me, at least. For most athletes there is a fine line between being smart and being dumb. I have strained my hamstring plenty of times and if I really was being honest, I always knew before it happened that it was going to happen. You feel something and you ignore it. (Oh that's nothing, just a little tightness…) Then you feel it again and you convince yourself that you can manage it. (I just won't push it too hard…) Then your body goes ahead and forces you to do what it tried asking you nicely to do in the first place. Stop. (Oops. There goes my hamstring….)

This time I chose to listen to my body willingly and I stopped before it made me. So instead of running 150's, I got poked and prodded, I got cupped, and then I got electrocuted. I am not making this up. If the training room is starting to sound like some sort of torture chamber, you aren't far from the truth. A lot of times we spend time putting ourselves through pain purposefully so we don't have to suffer pain that is going to set us back. Ice baths….deep tissue massage…foam rolling…needles…graston…electric stim…and my new favorite: cupping.

Does that look at all pleasant to you? Seriously, who came up with this crazy idea anyway?! But the point is, I choose to have this done and many other unpleasant things, so that I don't have to sit around for a week or two not doing anything. I do all of the above mentioned things so that I can use as many days as possible for putting my body through type of torture I enjoy. Training.

2012 is HERE!

I wish I had more things I needed to write the date on. I remember being in school and always screwing up the date for the first two months of the year change until it finally stuck. Of course I don't want to go back to writing essays, but you get the point. I also have no idea where my checkbook even is so that wouldn't be a date writing option either. But regardless of my inability to practice writing the date, if there is one thing my brain knows, its that 2012 is here. And there is no way I'm forgetting it.

The crazy thing about 2012 is that it's ALREADY here and it's FINALLY here, both at the same time. I remember how I felt four years ago, thinking to myself how far away this year seemed and how I wasn't sure I had four more years in me to try again to accomplish my goal. Now that it's actually here, it's crazy that I'm not waiting for it to get here anymore.

I think one of the hardest things about having the goal of "being an Olympian" is that in my sport you only get that opportunity one day every four years to try. That's it. In essence you are working for 1,459 days straight so that you can have the opportunity to do your best on day 1,460. And while you may do a lot of other great things with the four years in between and accomplish a whole bunch of amazing feats, you're still keenly aware of that ultimate goal you hope to accomplish.

I know everyone has goals…dreams…aspirations…desires…hopes…what have you. Some people get day after day to try again to accomplish theirs, and others may never really have that chance. For myself and for this particular goal I have been waiting since 2008 for it to be 2012 so that I can put everything I have to give on day 1,460. That day is now just around the corner.


2012 is here. I'm excited.

2011 Recap

At the beginning of 2011, I made a conscious effort to spell out my goals in black and white for the whole world to see. As I sit here on the last day of 2011, I thought it would be important to revisit my list and see how I fared. (You can click on the section titles if you'd like to read the goals in their entirety)

My professional goals:

-Be a consistent competitor (read: pep talks and new PR!)
-Have a successful Outdoor National Championships. (read: nationals recap)
-Perform well at the World Championships in Daegu. (read: the start of world championships)

Grade: D-
I must say that I didn't do so hot on my professional goals this year. Yes, I jumped far…further than I have ever jumped in my life and that is a total positive. But, I don't think I made consistency my middle name this past year and I definitely screwed up at Nationals which prevented me from even going to Worlds. That was a HUGE disappointment.

My spiritual goals:

-Complain less. (read: answered prayer)
-Give more. (read: high school track)
-Stay focused on what's important. (read: an offering)

Grade: B
I definitely think that this last year I have experienced a ton of spiritual growth and that has allowed me to really have a better perspective on a lot of things. I definitely have given more in time, talents, and treasures and I feel good about that. I'm headed in a good direction. I am not a perfect angel, but I can spot a faint halo in picture at times.

My relationship goals:

-Ask God to continue to work on the woman that I am, so that someone will want to catch a grenade for me. (read: coincidences)
-Be nicer to people. (read: encounters)
-Learn to love. (read: true love)

Grade: C+
Ok…so nobody has actually volunteered to catch that grenade yet, but I do think that God has worked on me this past year. More than anything He's made it clear to me the kind of relationship He wants for me and I'm content to wait for that. I also make everyone I go on a date with to take the love languages test so that I can be aware of their love language. :) Outside of my romantic relationships, I have become nicer. I hope.

Overall, I'm wouldn't say that I accomplished everything I wanted to this past year, but I like the idea that I can see quite clearly where I made improvements and where I need to work even harder. Most of these goals will probably be making a reappearance this coming year, and hopefully by this time next year I can give myself some better grades. :/

Heaven has a new angel...

A little over 11 years ago my father passed away suddenly. It was the first time I ever experienced death in an extremely personal capacity and it rocked my world. I had a half-brother who was just a toddler at that time that I mostly saw during the holidays when I was home from college. Needless to say, we never truly bonded and after my dad passed the whole dynamic was very weird and complicated. For years I didn't know how to contact him or how to be part of his life. After a while there was updates and pictures, and suddenly the boy in front of me wasn't the child I remembered, but a young man that I really didn't know, but wanted to. But like I said, it was complicated. Very much so.

Two years ago my sister was able to spend the day with him while I was in Europe over the summer. I wanted to know all about it…what was he like… was his personality like our Dad's…did he know anything about us…was it really awkward or did it seem natural. Of course it was a little awkward because he hardly knew us. A few months ago she asked if I wanted to try and hang out when I was home after my season and I nervously said yes, because I wanted to get the awkward part over with so we could be the family that we should be. But it never happened.

We always think we'll have tomorrow to do something. Next month to make it happen. The following year to see things through. But we aren't promised any of that.

Yesterday I was having lunch with my best friend and out of the blue she asked me about my brother. "Oh, I was supposed to see him a couple months ago but it didn't happen. Maybe soon, I hope, but it's a really complicated situation." A mere 20 minutes later my sister called to tell me our brother passed away from complications from a severe asthma attack.

I don't try to understand the why of death, because sometimes it's just more then my comprehension allows. But I do firmly believe that the grief is ours--those of us who are still here and wanting more of the relationship we feel we didn't get enough of, the memories we thought we could still make, and the time we felt we had to make everything better. CJ was only 14 years old, but his purpose on earth had been fulfilled so he was called home to be with our Dad and with his heavenly father. I know that. But I didn't ever think that I would only have this short time to do everything in my power to make sure I knew him as best I could. I didn't make the most of it because I thought I had tomorrow.

So I'm grieving. Crazy as it may seem, our heart knows who our family is.

Always a Competitor

Yesterday I went to a Baby Shower. And yes, I'm typically the girl that enjoys baby showers as much as I do grocery shopping--a necessary evil that sometimes just has to be done whether you feel like it or not. But every once in a while--like when Trader Joes is handing out free samples and I run by and grab 3 and feel like I got a whole snack for free--I enjoy myself more than I thought I would. My friend Bianca's shower would fall in that category. It was gorgeous, the food was amazing, I had a great time hanging with my friends, and they actually got creative with the games and livened it up a bit. This totally made up for the amount of times I had to oohhh and ahhhh over a set of bibs or clap over a bag of diapers.

They did stick to one old faithful baby shower game though. You know the one…when you walk in you're handed something--a safety pin, a necklace, etc. --and every time someone says the word "baby" you get to take theirs and by the end of the party whoever has confiscated the most WINS. As soon as I was handed my beads, the first words out of my mouth were "ugh. I hate BABY shower games. I always lose at these stupid things." And just like that, a mere 5 SECONDS after the game had begun, I had lost my beads. Or so I thought…

Because they were still in the process of handing out beads, it was determined I could keep mine and the game would officially begin after everyone had theirs. Awesome. So about 5 minutes later I catch someone else saying the forbidden word and score my first pair of additional beads. And that right there, ladies and gentleman, is where the tide turned. This was now a competition and I had decided I wanted to win it. So, for the next 3 hours I carefully thought out every sentence before it came out of my mouth, eavesdropped on conversations I wasn't a part of, and plotted my way to victory. There was not one moment of that party where I wasn't aware of the competition I was involved in. Why? Because I like winning. Because I love competition. And because once I set my mind to something, there really isn't anything that can deter me.

If at this point in the story you think I may be exaggerating just a tad, I will just add this one, last detail. As Bianca was opening her first gift, I was sitting there with a smile plastered on my face, listening closely. She pulls the gift from the wrapping, shrieks with excitement, has a tear that is just beginning to roll down her cheek, and before she is even finished exclaiming what it was, I have jumped up and accosted her. It was a BABY________. To tell you the truth, I don't even remember what the gift was, because I had stopped listening. Yes, I ruined the first gift, of her first shower, for her first baby. :/

But I won. (hopefully she forgives me.)

In case you are wondering, I won a Starbucks gift card. Icing on top of the cake.