When we look back on specific moments in our lives, we are able to remember them due to the significant impact they had on us. Usually, they are moments that are milestones, regardless of how large or small, that change our foundations.
Thursday, January 28, 2016.
I will always remember this day.
An athlete is "a person trained or gifted in exercises or contests involving physical agility, stamina, and strength." (Thanks, Dictionary.com) An athlete is versatile and malleable. An athlete is determined and never satisfied.
On January 28, I gave up being an athlete for the first time in my life.
I was a dabbler until I found rugby. I tried basketball, soccer, tap, jazz, and ballroom dancing, cheerleading, swimming, volleyball, cross-country, horseback riding, track & field, and even joined a walking club once in an attempt to find a group of athletes that meshed well with me. My brother was the star football player at our high school. He received a scholarship from Kutztown University to play for the Golden Bears. Shortly after his arrival, he decided to give up his football career. He transferred to Shippensburg where he joined a fraternity.
I will ashamedly admit, that I crucified him for this decision. I'd lived 12 long years in the athletic shadow of my brother. I was bitter that my family seemed to attend each of his football games yet rarely showed face at any of my athletic events. And here he was, after years of dedication to a sport that he could have excelled in even further, giving up his career as an athlete.
And in some ways, I was angry that I wouldn't have anyone to compete against anymore.
I applied and was accepted to Kutztown University two years later. I still tell people I came to Kutztown because of its gym, but I didn't. Some part of me, a selfish, stubborn part, still wanted to compete with my brother. I wanted to prove that I could be the athlete that he couldn't be.
I joined the Kutztown Women's Rugby Team after my brother recommended it to me. After all, rugby would probably be the closest I could get to his football.
I was there for the wrong reasons, and many of my teammates could tell. I wanted to be the best athlete, but didn't want to bond and conform to my team to do it. I think at one point, I even said to one of my teammates, "I'm here to be an athlete, not to make friends."
It wasn't until the end of my freshman year, two semesters into my collegiate rugby career, that I realized I'd stopped competing with my brother and had fallen in love with the sport and my team. I dedicated myself to rugby, training in the off-season harder than I had in the past. I watched game film, held white board meetings at my house, would pass at a wall in the rec center, would arrive early to practice and stay after just to practice on ball-handling skills and to understand why we did what we were doing on the field instead of just following my coach's commands blindly. Rugby consumed me.
Sometimes, a little too much because my big mouth would get me in trouble. In some ways, I was told it was even intimidating. I went through pulled hamstrings and quads, an elbow dislocation, and a torn ACL and meniscus. Not once, did I think about giving up rugby regardless of what my friends and family said about how my body was falling apart and how I would feel every tackle as I got older.
Then, my senior year came.
I had numerous nominations as an All-Star throughout my career and eventually was invited to the National All-Star Competition in December 2015. I went. I had fun. Yet, the passion was gone. I enjoyed being challenged on a new level, but the physical price of the camp was too much. I wouldn't be able to afford attending multiple. So, what was the point in continuing my rugby career when reality settled in and made it perfectly clear that I would have to sacrifice more than my body and money to continue playing rugby.
I would have to sacrifice my time and my happiness. Because as of Thanksgiving 2015, I realized I didn't want to play rugby anymore. I still enjoyed the sport, but I found myself focusing on other things, such as my writing and school, my boyfriend and family, my pending graduation and a career search. Rugby consumed less and less of my time until I realized that I was more than rugby. Rugby did not define me like I had let it for so many years. I was still trying to force myself to continue with something that I felt more stress than passion playing.
My health would eventually pay the price and in March 2016, I'll have a surgery that will make it impossible to recover and outrun and overpower my competition by the end of my senior year.
On Thursday, January 28, 2016, I gave up rugby.
And, I freaked, because now I wasn't an athlete. I'd defined myself as that one word, and I'd just given it all up. Yet, I still haven't regretted my decision. It's because I will grow from this. For so long, I let one aspect of my life define me. It was time for that to give way to allow my other talents to grow.
I also realized that I didn't become a non-athlete in the moment I gave up rugby. My body didn't change and neither did my mind set. I'm still determined and hungry. Now, I'm just faced with new challenges and the opportunity to conquer them. I'm in the process of finding my new confidence. Like so many collegiate athletes before me, I've learned that although I'm a non-athlete because I'm independent from a sport, I can still be athletic.
Rugby has taught me so much, but most importantly, it taught me that with every struggle there is a reward. And, I'm happy being labeled as the athletic non-athlete.
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