With the Winter Olympics here, I too find myself thinking
about the solid 12 years I spent trying to make the Olympic Team in the sport
of Whitewater Slalom. I think about the countless hours I spent on the river
dodging poles and pulling with all my strength. I think about the shoulder pain
I endured for years and the ridiculous amount of Advil I took. I think about
how, despite my dedication, I didn’t have the perfect athletic genes and was
nuts to think I could have ever achieved such a goal. I think about how
incredibly hard I was on myself workout after workout. I think about how truly
demoralized I could make myself feel when I didn’t race well. I think about all
those lost opportunities I could have pursued had I not raced – an MBA, better
career, more money. I think about all the times I spent away from friends and
family to get just one more workout in, go to one more training camp, or make
one more race on some far corner of the world…
And then I think about how for a decade-plus everything I did
was to achieve one goal – make the Olympic Team and how I failed.
So – was it worth it? Absolutely
– every second. Many of my moments of training were hard and painful, but
so many more were great and amazing. I might not be the perfect specimen of an
athlete, but I am truly driven and to have had the opportunity to channel that
drive into a sport that took place on majestic rivers around the world was an
absolute dream come true.
But almost more importantly, now that the dust has settled
and my mind has aged, I think about how failing to achieve one of my greatest
desires was still truly a beautiful moment in my life.
Despite Whitewater Slalom being a summer Olympic Sport, the
2000 Olympic Team Trials were held on a freezing early spring weekend in Tennessee.
I remember low hanging thick clouds threatening to snow. I remember walking up
to the start gate, placing my ultra-slick, little-white kayak in the water, and
feeling the cold river lap up on my toes and shocking my body. And I remember being scared shitless. I was so nervous.
I wanted puke. I wanted to cry. And I wanted to get the hell out of my boat and
drive away. I hated start gates, but the Olympic start gate brought on more
bile acid and fear than anything I had ever experienced before. And start gates
for Whitewater Slalom races were already rattling at best. Often the water of
the river was swirling underneath the hull of your boat while you tried to keep
yourself steady and focused on the course before you that drop down into huge
waves and holes with little tiny poles that hung down from the sky that you had
to duck and dive your kayak under and around… Whitewater Slalom was intimidating
enough and with my dreaded fear of the start gate, I have no idea why I ever
entered any races. But here I was, at Olympic Team Trails absolutely freezing
cold and painfully sick to my stomach. But as soon as I heard go, and got to
the other side of the start gate, my stomach released and my mind was free. I
knew I was where I belonged – in the race. I paddled my little white kayak as fast as I could and
although in one split second at the bottom of the course I screwed up, the
other 99% of my run was as perfect as I could have dreamed for. 99% of my run
was perfection and 1% wasn’t, and although that gut wrenching 1% cost me the
Olympics, fourteen years later I truly see the beauty in the fact that I went
through the start gate and participated. (See Plans Suck for a more detail
account of my actual race run).
I’ve always struggled with start gates in every aspect of my
life. I remember lying in a hospital bed in searing labor pain with my first
son Wyatt, and the doctor telling me to push – in my opinion, the official
start gate to motherhood. I didn’t want to push! I was so scared to
become a mother. When the doctor told me a second time to push, I yelled at
her! “I’m not doing this! I’m leaving." But thankfully, because of my
swollen belly and inability to walk, I had no choice and Wyatt entered this
world and gave me the greatest title in the world, Mama. As soon as I held
Wyatt in my arms, I was living the dream – I was participating in motherhood.
Publishing my first book was also the same way. Writing the
book was fun, but entering the start gate was horrifying – sharing my book with
readers and letting them judge my work was an extremely terrifying start gate. I
remember it well – I was sitting in my parent’s kitchen, it was mid-night on
December 21st. It was just my computer monitor and the Christmas tree lights
lighting up the room. It took me many second guessing and sickening minutes to hit the enter button on
my keyboard and make my book available online to the world to purchase and
download, but as soon as I hit the button, I felt a huge release. I was in the game. I was
participating and it felt amazing. And by no means I now find success as an
author – far from it – but I am still in the game and able to channel my drive
and desires.
My point to this post is, our goals and desires can be
incredibly hard to achieve, but the biggest hurdle and most scary part is the
start gate. Just get to the start gate, close your eyes, bite down hard, and get through it. Once you get through the start gate you can start living,
and even when you fail, you can still find greatness in participation.
Don’t get me wrong, till this day when I see a start gate –
regardless of whether it’s the enter button on my keyboard, the long walk from
my car to the front door of my new job, the turning of a doorknob to a new house in a new state, or the actual start gate at a race – I get nauseous.
I’m still so scared of going through a start gate, but every time I do its 100%
worth it.
Over the next two weeks, NBC is only going to show you the
victories. They are going to paint dramatic pictures of athletes that achieve
greatness and are awarded shinny medals. And these moments are inspiring, but
it’s so far from the whole picture. Every single one of these athletes are just
like all of us – when they enter the start gate they have no idea what the
outcome will be – and just like we have the ability to do in our own lives with
our own dreams – they go through the start gate.
As my Dad has always said, “Just get in the game!”
For those of you who are curious about whitewater slalom click here for a great video on the sport.
To view Sarah's middle grade fiction book click here: Paperback and Kindle
9 comments:
Sarah
I just loved this!!
Mike Hurd
Great stuff Sarah, love these words and couldn't agree more- starting gate of something new is always the toughest part! Thanks for this post.
Bravo, Sarah!
Thanks for sharing this Sarah. As far as I'm concerned, you win.
Well said Sarah. For anything great you have to risk something big.
Sarah - so well written and such a view into the life of the almost Olympians. I was a figure skater who never tried to go the distance but knew so many who did (including Vera Wang) and succeeded not in their Olympic dreams but in other parts of their life (including Vera Wang!) Every Olympian should be as successful as you! Thanks for sharing your thoughts.
Anne Adler
Oh man, that was riveting! Great metaphor, Sarah. And great advice. I'm going to keep reminding myself of this.
Love you Mama!! You're an inspiration.
xoxoox
Stevie
Very nice Sara, your a champion.
Sarah, I love reading your blog! I miss you. You are so amazing and your energy is wonderful and inspiring!
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