When I was around 15 years old, my family and I relocated to the States for the second time. This time, we landed in Skokie, a suburb north of Chicago. We had no family, friends, or an established business. In fact, we spent a few months at a Days Inn until we closed on a house. High school was a whole new world for me. It was drastically different from my education in India. One of the most distinctive factors was the value placed on extracurricular activities. Unlike my school in India, there was an opportunity to join sports, theatre, clubs, and student body organizations. I felt inept at almost everything, so I got involved in what I incorrectly thought would be easy at the time: track and cross-country. In this week’s blog, I share why I participated in those sports and how they shaped me. I tell this story because we often let our perceived inabilities and insecurities hold us back from discovering a whole new side of ourselves. I hope this small anecdote of my life reinforces your desire to try something new or keep at it even when you feel inadequate.
There was a running joke (ironic!) in my family about how I kept up with track and cross-country even though I almost always was the last to finish. One of my uncles even teased me once commenting that I had chosen track, because I had no aptitude for any other sport. It was an unwelcome observation and yet completely accurate. It got to me, but I remained a part of the team.
One of the main reasons I joined track and cross-country was to hold on to my sanity. I loved being part of a team, bonding with some of my teammates, and getting through practice together. I’m not in touch with my teammates, but during that time, I needed to be a part of something bigger and steadier than my circumstances. This team and sport were an escape from the discord at my home and life. They gave me structure, direction, and togetherness. I didn’t realize it then, but trying out for the team was my first brush with trying to feel less lonely. My friend, Tenzin, took me along to practice after school, and the rest is history. I will be forever indebted to her for encouraging me to show up to my first practice and supporting me all along. Somewhere, my mind registered then that feeling less lonely would entail some level of vulnerability.
I was a below average runner even though I did my best. I wasn’t any better at the gym on the days when we did strength training. I couldn’t bench press to save my life unless it had no weights on it. Looking back, it’s comical to me, but I am impressed that I kept trying.
My parents and I didn’t know any better, so initially my running shoes were a pair bought at Payless. Imagine the shin splints and lower back pain I ended up with. I still ran. Coach would tell me to stop hobbling like an old lady and pick up the pace, and I would give it my all. My parents didn’t have the time to show up to meets, but hearing my teammates cheer me on was enough.
I was part of the team for 2 years after which I focused on other interests my senior year. Those 2 years taught me so much. I pushed my body’s limits in some areas, but I also discovered my body’s limitations in others. I had no choice and learnt to cut back on my perfectionist tendencies. I accepted that I didn’t have to be the best at everything; in fact, it was impossible. My lackluster performance, not for want of trying, quickly cultivated humility in me, but I also recognized that I was and continue to be resilient. I don’t recall ever skipping practice or bowing out of meets. I frequently worried what the spectators, my teammates, and other athletes would think of my slowness, but, thankfully, that self-conscious thought didn’t deter me from doing my best. That was training for all the times, including now, when similar self-doubts arise, and I choose to drown them out with my efforts.
I learnt to never judge a body. I can’t tell you how many people assumed that since I was skinny, I was a fast runner. How false was that correlation! My teammates came in all shapes and sizes and none of that determined their performance. I learnt one of the best ways to cope with stress: movement. Years later, during and after my divorce, when my stress and sadness peaked, I started running again. I would run 3-6 miles after work. It was the only time throughout the day when I felt liberated and strong, I felt brave after every run ready to show up for more. It was my harmless drug of choice.
My biggest takeaway was that everything doesn’t need to be pursued with a singular purpose in mind. Sometimes, progress and results show up much later in life with a whole different impact. I wasn’t even a mediocre athlete, but I got so much out of my two years running. The effects are profound, as described above, on other parts of my life.
We are so focused on end results that we forget all the small, but consequential lessons, from our endeavors. Progress isn’t always quantifiable or even tangible, but it’s there. It shows up as a mindset shift, positive self-talk, higher confidence, meaningful relationships, and overall growth.
If you’re making the effort, never sell yourself short. Maybe you aren’t seeing the desired results yet, or you’re still learning the ropes at something, or you’re convincing yourself to attend an event where you don’t know anyone. No matter the uncertainty and self-doubt, here’s your sign to go for it. If you’re worried about what others will think, I get it. I know that feeling all too well, but still do it. All you have to do is your best, and your best doesn’t have to be your finest. Sometimes, your best is simply showing up without giving up.
As always, I am here to support you all the way, my brave soul. I hope you keep in touch with your stories, thoughts, and feedback. If you wish to learn more, please stop by www.imperfectbodies.com. Lastly, if you enjoyed this information, then please share it with others.
**NEW** My free 7-day mini course on Eating Mindfully for Weight Balance and Stress Management available here: https://fierce-originator-1156.kit.com/1577ad5668
All the best,
Chaitni