Embracing Athletic Identity
Last night, I went to watch a track meet. An amazing group of humans turned up to run fast laps around the oval: there were high school athletes, college athletes, local amateur athletes, Special Olympics athletes, and even professional athletes. All ages, all levels– and all of them working at their limits.
The energy was electric– runners warming up everywhere. Coaches shouting out advice and splits to racers. Game faces on.
I watched from the grandstand (ok, and also from the beer garden) and marveled at the whole event. Despite being a dedicated runner, I had never, in my 40 years on the planet, been to a track meet before.
Why, I wondered, had I missed out on the fun for so long?
Because in high school and college, I did not identify as an athlete. Or a fan of athletics. “Jock” was a very specific identity– and one I wanted nothing to do with. Jocks were bullies. Jocks were stupid. Jocks were sheep. I was none of that, so sports weren’t for me.
And that was my loss! What can I say? Teenagers aren’t known for their appreciation of nuance. I protected myself from some of the (very real) problematic aspects of sports and sports culture– but I missed out on the benefits, too. The camaraderie. The focused work. The joy of measurable progress.
Fast forward ten years. As an adult with a fully-formed sense of self and a less rigid social hierarchy around me, I became an athlete. I didn’t set out with that goal in mind, and it didn’t happen overnight, but that’s where I wound up, and I’m glad I did.
I started running for stress relief, and gradually, I got pulled into the community. I got fitter and faster. I became a student and a fan of the sport of running– and other sports, too. I grew to appreciate the marvel of what bodies (mine included) could do. I wanted more.
Like a lot of adult-onset runners, it took me a while to embrace my athletic identity. But now that I see myself as an athlete, I’m better for it. Being an athlete helps me find ways to fuel my body, recover well, and structure my life. It gives me focus and helps me set goals. It gives me a community of people who share my values. It gives me a reason to take care of myself. Because I’m an athlete, I’m a better partner, daughter, sister, professional.
I wonder how many other adult runners hesitate to label themselves as athletes because of their teenage experiences. Does “being an athlete” carry baggage for you? What if, as an adult, it meant something else? What if it was a rallying point for your goals, energy, big dreams, and successes? What if it helped you organize your health and your priorities, and, oh yeah, what if it was fun?
Sit with this for a while. The rules aren’t the same as they were in high school. Are you ready to embrace your athletic identity?
