you will not {define} me. part 2.


Hey! Long time no post. It seems as though I have not written anything for a while - and this is true. I hope you are having a great day, and have found some sort of joy in what can seem to be the mundane, in-and-out, rainy days of February (or least in my region of BC).  

This post is a simple reflection. You might recall in November of last year, I wrote a piece on how there is not any specific person who will ever play the role of completing me, besides Jesus. I talk a bit about a life in general, but specifically about a certain person who I had set in my head. A set image of someone who could fill in the gaps of my life, someone who I was subconsciously dependent on. With that being said, that little bit about life in general is what I want to talk more about today.


My indoor track and field season began on January 16th in Seattle, Washington. I had a great meet, and came home happy and excited for what the season had to offer. My goal from the start of September was to make the CanWest conference finals, in either high jump or pentathlon. Those finals are next weekend in Saskatoon. Today, I received an email from my coaches with a list of people attending that meet; my name was not on that list.


My immediate reaction was tears: how could a season of such great fruit bear such an ugly result? I pb'd in every event I went in, I worked really hard, and somehow, things were cut short. I cried a bit. Actually, a lot. I called my dad, because he always has good things to say. I felt defeated, worthless, forgotten about. Regardless, I was really upset. It stung. I knew it was coming too, I just needed someone to tell me the straight fact: I wasn't going. Despite having an awesome season, the competition this year is unreal. Great high jumpers, an awesome relay team, and as the nature of things goes, teammates and competition get better as time progresses. While I was able to learn new things and understand my sport better, so did other people.


With all that being said, cliche as it is, oh man does God have something greater planned. It is unreal how I based my entire season, my entire track and field existence around the idea of attending a single meet. I let it define my season in some aspects, and I created a standard of greatness (CanWest in this case) to compare myself to. When I knew that I hadn't made standard, I considered my entire season a failure. This, however, is completely not the case.


There are a lot of things to consider. When I signed in my grade 12 year to compete for TWU, never in my wildest imagination did I think I could ever be considered for the CanWest championships. Mind you, I didn't even know what that was in grade 12. I never wanted to run a 400m race again, I had no desire to do multi-events, and I never thought that I would put down a pole vault pole. Things have changed, and I can honestly say that the growth throughout this season is something that I cherish greatly. I had the amazing opportunity to run against NCAA div. 1 athletes, run 2 400m races, run a 600m (albeit it's wretchedness), and managed to learn four new events. I think that is a wonderful thing, and I found my joy again, especially in running. So, I cannot stress this enough, but I cannot undermine my season. I would be discrediting the hard work I have put into it, but also the support and love from my unreal coaches, parents, family and of course the silly and insane teammates. This joy is something I don't think I could trade for anything, not even a meet.


I think the biggest thing that I struggle with throughout all of this is my pride: the idea that by not going to CanWest, people will think of me as a lesser athlete. Someone who is not capable, someone who is not worthy or doesn't work hard enough. Through all of these insecurities, I fall victim to a false idea that my work is in vain. But, a single meet does not define who I am as a person, nor does it define my athletic capabilities. I understand that I am capable of so much more than a number on a page, and will strive to accomplish things beyond this. I am prone to envy and jealousy and comparison with my teammates. I compare myself to them, but forget about so many factors: age, experience, event, the list goes on. I have this idea that I do not want to be an athlete who simply makes it to CanWest in my fourth and fifth years, but that is one of the most selfish ideas out there. It is important to have drive and determination, but I cannot become prideful and go forward thinking that simply because my teammates can earn a spot in their first or second years, that I deserve the same. If I make it to CanWest (when I do!), I will be thankful for the unreal chance that I can compete and honour God in the best way possible. Remembering where I started from and not getting wrapped up in a prideful state is the most important thing I think right now.


Moving forward, yes, I am bummed, but also so ridiculously thankful. I think we are prone to be envious when we see other people succeeding at things that we do as well. But, I cannot dwell in a place of grief, nor a place of hiding and envy. I love my teammates so dearly and am stoked to see their success, despite my envy. They are people to look up to, and to honour as they have worked extremely hard this season. This season has been difficult in so many aspects, but also so rewarding. Thank you to my sweet sweet coaches (Rob, Kim, Matt) and to the unreal support team that is constantly working for our team (Brooke, Ivonne) and to a kind family that believes in me, despite my constant complaining, defeats, ongoing rants and selfish thoughts. Thank you to my teammates and the ones who believe that I am capable of something greater than this.


At my first meet in Seattle, I kept Philippians 4:13 running through my head the entire time: "I can do all things through Him who gives me strength", and furthermore, Romans 8:28 boasts of the Father's love for us, and his plan, despite everything that we are ultimately blind to: "Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good." I move forward with a peaceful mind, praying and confiding in a Lord that knows my heart and understands my desire to be a strong athlete.