Reigniting a Fire - An Ode to Fútbol

Sitting in the stands of Providence Park on an unusually warm Portland summer evening, I began to feel something I haven’t felt in almost a decade.  The feeling was stronger than the sweat dripping from my armpits and the stickiness of the stadium seat against my thighs.  I’ve had this feeling before...many times before.  It was kick-off time and the Portland Thorns women sprinted to their respective positions, finishing off their final pre-game rituals with either a knee to chest jump or a slapping of the thighs.  

I felt alive.  Yes, I remembered.  I remembered what it feels like to wear socks that go up to your knees and jerseys that hang on your shoulders.  I remember what it feels like when your feet and blisters burn because the turf is so hot.  I remember the physicality of holding your ground with your shoulder digging into your opponent.  I remember what it feels like right before the whistle blows; that moment when I become more than just a soccer player, I become a warrior.  

Soccer made me the woman I am today.  Through soccer, I learned what it means to be passionate, dedicated, and tenacious.  These three qualities are frequently discussed in relation to grit in New York Times Bestseller Angela Duckworth’s Grit.  Throughout the book, I frequently identified connections between my personal development through soccer and Duckworth’s analysis of what it means to be gritty.

Playing soccer wasn’t just a hobby or an athletic extracurricular; being a soccer player was a part of my identity.  I looked forward to Tuesday and Thursday evening practices and weekend tournaments.  If I wasn’t competing or at team practice, I was attending clinics, summer camps, or personal training sessions.  There were of course challenging times: missing a key defensive tackle, struggling to complete a pass, or sitting on the bench for an entire tournament with zero explanation.  As Duckworth writes, “grit is about working on something you care about so much that you’re willing to stay loyal to it...it’s doing what you love, but not just falling in love--staying in love” (54).  Even after a decade of playing competitively, the day I decided to stop playing soccer, I had not stopped loving the sport.  Winning a national title, scoring a half-field game winning goal, and regional awards were special.  But, it wasn’t just these moments of glory that I loved about the game.  I also lived for the ugly moments.  I lived for getting thrown to the ground by a forward 50 pounds heavier than me and getting back up.  I lived for sprinting up and down the field with salt seeping into my eyes after 90 minutes of play in 100 degree Sacramento heat.  The bruises, the abusive coaches, and the horrible tan lines could not and would not deter my love for the game.    

Even more specific than being a soccer player, I was a defender.  I rarely made any headlines and never received the “most goals scored” award.  But I wanted to be the best defender not just on my team, but in the region.  There were always opportunities for me to be better, including ball control, agility, or first touch on the ball.  I had coaches to evaluate my weaknesses, but I was and continue to be, my harshest critic.  In Grit, Duckworth describes a person of grit as “satisfied with being unsatisfied...chasing something of unparalleled interest and importance, and it was the chase--as much as the capture--that was gratifying” (8).  I don’t think there is a perfect defender.  As someone who strives for perfection, this might sound like a recipe for disappointment.  However, I felt fulfilled from not just competing with others, but with competing with myself.  I wanted to identify my weaknesses and I wanted to be better.   

So, here I am today, no longer kicking around a soccer ball (competitively, that is) and instead pursuing a running dream, career, and heck, adulthood.  Yet, the defender is still within me.  Thank you, soccer.  

Fulfillment

GF pizza + garlic, goat cheese, caramelized onions, spinach,
basil, artichoke heart & chicken sausage - the more the better

Finishing off the last bits of wine and moving on from dinner to dark chocolate, we slowly shift the conversation from the latest King’s draft picks and the successful gluten free pizza crust.  Just like any typical Mickle-Stroud gathering, Mama Mickle and Mama Stroud bring the table conversation to a deeper level.  Mama Mickle asks the table, “What do you need to be happy?”  This question led to a variety of answers, but all responses followed a similar theme: giving back to people and creating meaningful relationships.  This question also forced us to evaluate the difference between happiness and fulfillment.  Can you have one without the other?  Is one more important or sought after than the other?

Picnic dinner & a view with my dear Eleanor at Skidmore Bluffs in NE Portland

Although there was some disagreement about the differentiation between the two, I believe that the two are intertwined.  Carnitas tacos with copious amounts of guacamole, jumping in Donner Lake, and running PRs bring me happiness.  But, these blissful moments aren’t what fulfill me.  I think more than happiness, I strive for fulfillment.  In a sense, I look to keep my glass full.  There can sometimes be fruit flies or there can sometimes be sediment, but that’s okay.  It’s like I can be in a “funk,” or cranky and hormonal, but still feel fulfilled.  The essence of fulfillment is that it isn’t a moment; it’s a state of being.  It’s a place where you feel nourished even when there is pain and even when there is sadness.   

Popping open champagne with friends in Eugene

The past few months, I have found numerous places and people who have nourished me.  They are what keep my cup full.  Whether dealing with a cancelled flight back to my alma mater for alumni weekend or an MRI result showing another stress fracture, I have had my people in my corner.  They were there to provide champagne bottles to pop and they were there to bust more than a move or two on the dance floor with me, despite an injured hip.  Heartbreak, anger, and disappointment are bound to happen.  

Truthfully, there are bound to be a whole hell of a lot more fruit flies flying in my cup, and likely, some even bigger pests to come.  But, if I can remember to shift my focus away from the crappy parts and see that there are people who are always there to keep me nourished, I think I’ll be more than okay. If I cannot only acknowledge this, but also accept this, I think the next year, and heck the next decade, will be a lot more pleasant.  

I’m savoring the hours of sunshine we have left here in Portland and I’m looking forward to a Fall with less elliptical and more running, less thinking and more doing, and a new change of pace with a new living space!

And, always remember, "Shaka Life"