Over on DailyMile, where people can log exercise and a community of amazingly optimistic people support one another, they have daily conversation starters. Friday’s was: “When you’re working out today, try to remember what sports felt like when you were a kid.”
I had already done my workout for the day by the time I saw that question — and during that 6-mile run I didn’t think once about what sports felt like many years ago. But it got me thinking and reminiscing anyway. I talk regularly about how I decided to prove my childhood doctors wrong. They didn’t tell me NOT to run and engage in sports, but they said I wouldn’t do well since my feet were so bad. Looking back on it many years later, I’m appalled that they said such a thing. I don’t think I misremember their diagnoses, since I’ve always been a pretty optimistic person who focuses on the good parts of life. I also remember hearing doctors say these things more than once.
At any rate, that didn’t prevent me from trying to participate in sports. But I can admit now that I was just not good at sports. I couldn’t hit or catch a softball (maybe because of my crazily thick eyeglass lenses?). Though I was pretty good at making baskets, I couldn’t for the life of me be aggressive enough to accomplish anything on a basketball court. So I tried valiantly to play volleyball. Sometimes I could serve the ball well, and I could bump it. But I was too short to spike it over the net, and every time I tried to set it, I’d jam a finger and therefore hinder my piano playing. Plus, it was too hard for my mom to get me to and from practice, so my school athletic career soon came to an end. I did ride my bike a lot, but I didn’t see it as a “sport.”
So, how did sports feel when I was a kid? My answer is summed up in one word: disheartening. I wanted to be involved, and I think I subconsciously knew I’d feel better with exercise. But every single time I tried, I failed. I was stubborn enough to keep trying — and failing — for about 15 years.
Only now do I realize that I never once considered track and field. Doctors said I wouldn’t be able to run, so that sport was not even an option. Looking back, I wonder what might have been. Both of my younger sisters participated in track and field, and the youngest one just finished her four-year collegiate career that included setting some school records in both cross country and track and field.
After I finally gave up my attempts at participating in sports, it took me a dozen more years to discover that I liked running. I’ll never be a “fast” runner, and I will probably always have setbacks in my running. But I look forward to running, I have to make a sincere effort not to plan my life around it, and I hang out with a lot of runners. I think my classmates on the volleyball, softball and basketball teams had that, and I did not.
Now, I finally get it. Someday, if someone asks me what sports felt like as an adult, I will say: “Amazing. Gratifying. Life-changing.”
It’s funny to think about the effect that an adult’s words can have on children, especially when it comes to assessing potential. I was a gymnast, and one of my best friends on my team was told by her coach when she was just six years old that she would never be able to do a back tuck. My friend worked at that back tuck for years, and accomplished all sorts of other wonderful things in the sport, but still at the age of 18 vividly remembered that conversation, and the sense of failure that particular move brought to her. On the other side of that story, what I take from it is to be incredibly encouraging to all kids, even the ones who think they’re going to be able to learn to fly
Those are very true words: Kids should always be encouraged. For that matter, adults should receive encouragement, too. We all need some kind words, and we can all find new limits if we keep reaching.
And hey, once upon a time there were kids who thought they’d be able to fly — and they built an airplane!
Great post! I may have to do the same. By the way, what job did you take if it wasn’t AOL?
I’m now doing office admin/marketing stuff. (And I got the job because of the running community.)
Love this post and so happy you found running. It doesn’t matter if you are fast or slow (and I think you are pretty fast!) – you are out there.