For the Love of the Sport?

Growing up, sports and I had a complicated relationship, really, any kind of physical activity. I’m not sure if it was because I was always a bit of a klutz or that I was happiest in the air conditioning listening to audiobooks for hours. The first sport I played was soccer. I don’t remember much besides it being hot and sticky. I was often out of breath and didn’t find it particularly rewarding. I played basketball at my church for a few years, and even though it was inside, I would get frustrated with my coaches and teammates easily. Being around so many people and the loud noises always had me on edge. It wasn’t all misery. I got to spend time with my best friends, and my dad was my coach. I look back fondly on my dad coaching my team and the Dairy Queen trips after practices. The people I met and the relationships that were strengthened were worth it.

    The sport that became a family endeavor and consumed much of our time throughout my childhood was swimming. It started with doing the summer swim league in our neighborhood, The Chatahoochee Whitecaps. The water felt frigid during those early morning practices. I loved to bike down to the neighborhood pool to practice. Once I arrived, it was slightly less fun. The coaches learned quickly that I liked to ask questions. After a few practices, I was limited to three questions per practice to save all the adults’ sanity. Summer swimming felt laid-back compared to what I would experience later with year-round swimming.

    The neighborhood moms volunteered to herd cats- I mean, children- for the races. Kids would sit around playing and talking while waiting for their race. The concession stands sold food that I was only allowed to eat on rare occasions. (My mom loved to rant about the lack of nutritious options.) Because I was homeschooling, I didn’t ride the bus with many of the girls on the team with me. They often had friendships and connections I didn’t, but in the end, a good time was had by all.

    What became the bane of my existence was the year-round swim team. The intentions were good, and I did learn a lot of good skills through the sport. What always frustrated me was that no matter how hard I practiced, I could never keep up with my teammates. Now I know that my lack of coordination and motor skills played a big part. I wanted to be a good athlete. My brother and sister were so fast. I lagged behind my teammates, out of breath. Sometimes it felt like I failed. The homeschool swim team I was on felt less intimidating. Our coach would take us to Carvel, the kids I practiced with were often on our field trips, and my mom was always close by.

    After I started public school, I joined the swim team at a new facility under a new coach. This was daunting. I remember being eleven and a seven-year-old routinely being faster than me during practice. My teammates were nice, but I just knew I couldn’t keep up. I didn’t know my teammates. They all either attended private or public schools outside my school district. One teammate mentioned how her school hired a new cafeteria chef. I was fascinated that her meals were cooked by a trained chef and had lots of questions. Another teammate had a crush on a boy band member whose name escapes me at the moment. She was insisting she had a chance of being with her celebrity crush. I was confused and asked whether they would end up together. How would they meet? She answered with a long-winded story of how a friend of hers called into a radio station and got to talk to the dreamboat. I wasn’t convinced.

    All of this was entertaining and enjoyable, but I knew I wasn’t good at swimming. I wasn’t fast, and I wasn’t coordinated. My teammates were getting moved to the diamond team, which was the next level up, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to advance. After seventh grade, my parents let me quit. It was a relief to spend more time doing things I enjoyed and knew I was good at.

    It took until high school and college to find ways of moving and staying active that I enjoyed and could be motivated to do without outside influence. In closing, sports can teach some important life lessons, such as perseverance, teamwork, hard work, and patience. These are all lessons I honed in my AP history courses in high school. As an adult, what’s most important is helping a child find a way to move their bodies that they enjoy and can continue into adulthood. My form of physical activity just isn’t a sport. I love going for nature walks at local parks when the weather permits. I regularly attend yoga, pilates, and other exercise classes. It wasn’t the physical activity that I didn’t enjoy; it was the competition that gave me immense anxiety. When I’m walking and observing nature, or in an exercise class, I’m not competing against anyone; I’m just moving my body to improve my own health. I would encourage parents whose children don’t enjoy sports to explore whether it’s the competitive nature they don’t like. I truly believe there is a form of physical activity that everyone can enjoy. It just might not be in a competitive form.