Important Memories

I entered college somewhat naïve in the dating and relationships department. At the tender age of 18, I took people at their word at all times. If a guy told me he liked me and wanted to be with me, well then that was the only story I thought there was. It took me exactly one relationship to learn that wasn’t always the case. My first college boyfriend introduced me to the wonderful world of guys who say one thing and do another. In this particular case, say you want to be in a committed relationship, but really have other plans. Needless to say, I was crushed. My world as I knew it had been turned upside down and my heart had been ripped out and stomped on. I thought I was on a path to true love and instead I got played. I gave this heartache my undivided attention. I cried my eyes out, I lost my appetite, and I walked around in a dazed stupor completely unaware of the world around me. Nothing else in my world mattered. It was serious.

That weekend I had a track meet in Phoenix and the last thing I felt like doing was pouring energy into anything besides moping. I arrived at the track and was sitting by myself under a tree when all of the sudden I saw a man who looked an awful lot like my Dad in the distance. It took me a few seconds to realize that there really couldn’t be anyone else in the world that could pull off my Dad quite so believably and that it was in fact, him.

What was he doing? Why was he here? How did he even know I was going to be there?! Somehow, Dad had gotten word that a man had broken my heart so he drove to Arizona to make sure I knew that I still had a man in my life that loved me. That’s it… Just a big hug with an extra squeeze thrown in. Then he watched me run, hugged me again and told me he loved me, and then drove back to California.

That happened over 12 years ago, but with the hoopla of Father’s Day today, this memory came flooding back with vividness as if it had just happened last week. I can feel myself smiling as I realize it’s him. I can remember him hugging me tightly and holding on just a little bit longer than normal. I can see him in the stands just letting me know he was there. He didn’t say anything but he spoke volumes. Sure, I was going to learn soon enough how to date with one eye open and to be careful who I gave my heart to, but right then I was just a little girl that needed her daddy. Sometimes that’s all it takes.

I’m sharing this memory because I remember it. For me, that’s all I have now. Just memories. Continue to make memories and connect with people while you can. You never know which ones will stick with someone beyond what you realize and mean more than you can imagine.

I Won

I looked back quickly to check if there would be a white or red flag raised. Instead, I saw the official bending over the takeoff area to check and see if there was a mark in the plasticene. Obviously, it had been close. But as the saying goes...no mark, no foul. The plasticene was mark-less and so he raised the white flag. I let out a huge sigh of relief. This jump was better, I just knew it. And after my first two mediocre jumps, I pretty much needed it to be so that I could ensure myself a spot in the top six and gain another three jumps. Once my mark flashed on the board I could once again breath easily. That's more like it. 6.78 moved me into first place and I once again had found my mojo.

I can't remember the last time I won a major competition. Sure, I have accomplished some of my goals and competed well, but being the winner??! Well, let's just say me and the blue ribbon have not been pals in quite some time. The taste of victory has not been on my pallete since it was cool to communicate in pager codes. Ok...I exaggerate only slightly. When I first became a professional athlete, I had to learn to evaluate my performances by something other than "Did I win?" In high school and college, that was really all that mattered to me. If I won, I was happy, and if I lost, don't talk to me for at least 48 hours. But sometimes victories come without the W, and in order for me to grow I needed to accept that (or just be in a state of perpetual grumpiness).

But winning this meet came at a time when a victory was just what the doctor ordered. More than just being satisfied with my performance, I felt giddy with excitement being able to answer the million dollar after competition question: "How did you do?" with I won. I haven't said that very often in the last 8 years...definitely not as often as I would have hoped to. I needed that change in momentum and it couldn't have come at a better time. Bouncing back from my worst competitions of the season to have my best one a few days later is a testimony to how I've grown as an athlete. Bad performances don't define you, they teach you.

I'm learning a lot this year as I do my best to continue to believe in myself and my abilities. I have to have confidence in myself and in my coach...which is also me. :) I like winning. I want to do more of it this year and in the years to come. Maybe I'll even get a blue ribbon out of it one of these times.

The Mixed Zone and God

After competitions, most athletes walk thru what is known as the mixed zone.  Basically this is where all the reporters etc. line up to talk to those that did well, those that should have done well, or the hometown favorite.  I would definitely not say that I am a staple in the mixed zone, although one day I hope to be.  There aren't tons of microphones being thrown in my face or journalists yelling out my name trying to get my attention.  Most of the time I just scurry past without even glancing up.  I do like to eavesdrop though on other athletes getting interviewed.  I'm sure this is just the nosey part of my personality, but every once in a while it's interesting.  The most standard line you'll hear back there, especially from American athletes, starts off something like this: First I'd like to thank God...  Of course, I think this is a good thing.  I like God and I think he should be thanked first.  Granted, it does start to sound a little standard, in the same way that Oscar speeches do, but if you really believe that he gives you the talent, ability, and resources to accomplish things, it makes sense.  But what happens when you fall a little short of your goals?  Who does the athlete thank after a performance that was less than desirable?  I'd say that if you were thanking him for the right reasons when things turned out well, he still deserves the shout out when the outcome is less than we desire.

Sometimes I have to remind myself of that.  Like now.  Because I find myself never having a problem remembering to  thank the Big Man when things go well for me.  It's immediate, it's genuine, and it's from the heart.  But when things don't seem to go my way?  Well, let's just say that little talk I have afterwards sometimes doesn't possess the same enthusiasm it should.  I know that in my heart I believe that God is doing good all the time.  That is an important cornerstone in my faith.  Trusting in that and acknowledging it still takes effort though. But if the flip side to that is only being thankful for the huge successes, I'm basically telling God he flaked on me those other times.  And God is no flake.  He knows what he's doing and he has a plan and a purpose that I am supposed to trust in.  And while that plan is unfolding, I should be thankful for all the blessings I'm racking in along the way.  

If you weren't aware already, my performances in Europe this past week were quite the disappointment.  Nobody interviewed me afterwards or asked me what I was thinking, but because I have my own lovely little platform right here, I'd like to make sure I Thank God.  I competed in my first Diamond League meet and I bombed.  But hey, I was there!  There were lessons to be learned and opportunities to make the most of.  I know  this post is a little personal and a tad more revealing than I usually like to write, but I feel like it was necessary for me.  Because you better believe the next time I jump extraordinarily well and have a great performance, I'm going to be right back here giving thanks where it's due.(like...maybe tomorrow?!)  I don't want to be someone who only thinks good comes from things going my way.  It's easy to smile on the good days...I want to know and show that there is a reason to smile every day.    

Hiatus

I never meant to take this long of a break from blogging. It just kind of snowballed and before I knew it, it had been weeks with no update. In the blogging world that spells disaster. Your readers will forget about you and your blog will become a distant memory-- Oh yea...that blog I used to read...what was the name of it ...I have a fabulous life--or something...by that one track girl. Well it was pretty interesting for awhile, but it just kind of fell off.

I know I can do better. I just don't know if I want to. In all honesty, blogging is cool and all, but sometimes it can feel like a chore. And let's be real--who really likes doing dishes or folding laundry all the time. I do have some stories to tell and some things I want to share though, so I plan on doing a few updates in the very near future. After that we can assess if my fabulous life has run it's course of fabulous-ness. I know there are a few of you who won't hesitate to let me know if it has.

See you soon!

We Were SOOO Cool

You know you've made it when people care what you were doing at 17 years old. At least that's my take on it. Jennie must be big time for people to want to know what kind of car she drove in high school and how she became part of the infamous Bomb Squad. And we all know how cool the Bomb Squad was is. The funny part is when I sat down to recount who she was and what we did at 17, I realized that 17 year old perspectives tend to be a bit off. Nothing makes that more clear than high school pictures and memories. But the trip down memory lane was fun, if not a tad embarrassing. I should have thought a bit more about what pictures I willingly handed over to be used in her segment, but hey, we were 17.

If you missed her episode, you can watch it here:
http://www.mtv.com/videos/when-i-was-17-ep-3-drake-jennie-finch-queen-latifah/1639165/playlist.jhtml

Here is one of the deleted scenes that in my opinion was the funniest story of them all, but that's probably because I experienced it. It was a trip to Mexico that our parents never knew about...until now I guess. :/

When I Was 17 - MTV Shows

The Many Uses of Toothpaste

This morning I woke up and was unable to brush my teeth. I had completely depleted my traveler size toothpaste the night before on something far more important than clean teeth and pleasant smelling breath. Bug bites. If you’ve never heard of this home remedy it’s probably because you’ve chosen to go the commercial route and buy something from the store that actually says on the packaging it relieves itching from pesky little tropical critters who’s main purpose in life is to drive you absolutely bonkers. But I didn’t have the luxury of a store. What I did have was a computer and an internet connection. Turns out there are a ton of common household items that will relieve itching, but since I also didn’t have a household, my choices were limited even more by what I could find in my toiletry bag. It was either toothpaste or nail polish. And while nail polish would have been a less needed commodity for the rest of the trip, I only had hot pink. I’m not above plastering myself with hot pink circles for a little relief, but I figured I would go the minty freshness route first that at least I could wash off come morning.

I don’t really know if the relief was real or imagined. It certainly didn’t make it disappear altogether per say, but I felt like I could at least manage it and fall asleep. In fact, I woke up in the middle of the night in complete panic as my middle toe was on fire (it seems I accidentally skipped one) and hurriedly tried to squeeze the last bit from the tube so I could cover my toe and fall back asleep. It worked.

Today I will walk until I find a pharmacy. Either that, or I’ll stop by the store and get a larger tube of toothpaste.

Fish Day

Upon arrival in St. Martin yesterday, our host and meet director wanted to help us experience his island. Unfortunately for us, Carnival had ended the week prior… but we did happen to be just in time for Fish Day! “What is Fish Day”, you ask? Well when I first heard him say it I just figured I was having trouble understanding exactly what he was saying and that it was some loose Caribbean term for the festival we were supposed to be going to. But it turns out the festival is all about fish. These people go all Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. on you and devote an entire festival to the preparation and eating of every type of fish imaginable. And you can have it fried…bbq’ed…steamed…stewed…trust me, the possibilities are endless. Being the adventurous person I am, I had some shrimp skewers. There is just something about a fish that seems to be looking at me from the plate that gives me the heebie-jeebies.




I tried to capture a bit of video of the day and wanted to share it with you. A couple of things you will notice upon viewing, though. For starters, I really need to read an “Editing Video for Dummies” book, stat. I also need to ban the word awesome from my vocabulary. I’m not a surfer but it seems I want to be.