Did you know by the age of 14 girls drop out of sports at six times the rate of boys? Six times!

It’s the thick of track season for me. Meets every other day. Canceled meets and line up redos. Hard practices. It’s the grind right now. 

My daughter is the LEGO builder of the family. The LEGO bug never sparked her brothers, but she’s been building since the Duplo phase. She wasn’t even 2 when her baby brother was born. He was a baby that required holding. The swing was no good. The crib was no good. Just mom’s arms. 

I learned to pick one thing. Even if there are ten things wrong. Still pick one thing. Your athlete can focus on that one thing, see improvement, gain confidence and then eventually, you can pick a new thing. 

I think about my hurdle days from time to time. Not with regret or even a desire to return. It’s just that I think there was a sweetness to them that got left behind.
The sweetness of stillness.

I never lost a race. Never lost a game. There wasn’t an elementary contest where I didn’t come out on top.

Until the sixth grade school mile.

Brown sugar. Yummy.
Baking soda. Yuck.
Peanut butter. Yum.
Flour. Yucky.
But once you put all the ingredients together. Mix it up. Let it bake. It comes out a whole new creation and it’s delicious. All of it good.
That’s sport, right? Life really.

I wish you knew how good you are.
I wish you knew how great you are becoming.
I wish you knew I see you trying.
I wish you knew how bright you shine.

When she was in the game, I thought I needed to teach her to be a team player. To let other teammates shine. But as I listened, I didn’t interject. No corrections needed. I was wrong.

A song popped on the radio I hadn’t heard in 20 years. Yet, somehow, I knew all the words.

The power of song, is not just the strange catalogue of words and melody, but how it instantly brought my 16 year old self back. Driving in her first car. Blaring her FLY CD. I remember that girl. Her heartbreak. Her fears. Her helpless optimism.

Oh the things I’d tell her.