This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine

Over the past week, I read several blogs and posts reeling with self-doubt, including one from myself.   I didn't think much of it; most of us are at the end of triathlon season, burned out from months of training and the worry that we have under trained and will fail ourselves.  

We all have our struggles, the days we cannot seem to find the strength to see a single positive thing out of the entire day.  We're not perfect, and not all days will be good days, but there is good in every day.  We just have to take a deep breath and reassess.  Yes, I am taking my own advice, practicing what I am preaching.  Lesson learned.

I had another moment of clarity last night as I was on the sideline watching my high school girls scrimmage at open gym.  It motivated me to take to the keyboard for the third time this week, and heightened my sense of responsibility to be a better person, to be the kind of person I want my children to be.

You are probably wondering what I saw that has me all worked up.  

We are in a true rebuilding year; we graduated our entire varsity team, save for 4 players, one of whom is out for the season with a shoulder injury.  We know we have a lot of work to do in the gym, and we gladly accept the challenge.  We can teach anybody to play basketball, if they are willing to learn.  

As I was watching, silently noting what skills we need to work on most once practice begins, I heard someone say "sorry," and watched as her smile disappeared, her shoulders slumped and her eyes looked down at the floor.  It piqued my interest, and I began paying more attention to the girls themselves and less to their basketball abilities.  I watched them pass, run, shoot, dribble, rebound - and I watched as they apologized when they made mistakes, as they shrunk in stature from each error, and as the light left their eyes.

The skill we need most is confidence.

I promised myself, right then and there, that by the end of the season that these girls - every last one of them - will possess self-confidence.  I will find a way to teach them to believe in themselves, to find their voices and to let their light shine.  I took the first step by encouraging them to make mistakes, to learn as they go, laughing as I told them that it's not failing if they learn one thing from it.  I will tell them over and over, and then I will tell them again.  I will make sure that they know it is okay to mess up, not only on the basketball court, but in life. I told them that "the future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams."  

One of my favorite women of history, Eleanor Roosevelt, said that, and I quote her often.  She was strong, smart, tall and a Libra - just like ME!  Yes, I am announcing that I am all of these things, and more.  I have a strong sense of who I am, thanks to my parents.  They taught me, from a very young age, to be independent, proud of who I am and to always believe in myself.  It couldn't have been easy - I am stubborn as well (who knew?), but I love them so much for everything that they did - and also for what they didn't.  They encouraged me - to work hard, to practice, to study - and they never made excuses or tried to fight my battles for me. 

I was always tall, and I've always had big feet.  I'd cry and cry about this, and my dad would tell me that I was being ridiculous, that I needed to have big feet because I'd look silly with little feet.  It usually got the crying to slow to sniffles, and I'd pick up a book or a basketball and pull myself out of my self-misery.  

When I was 13 and had glasses and braces, in addition to towering over the "popular girls," he told me I was beautiful.  My mom, too.  They'd say that when I'd come home from practice, all sweaty and exhausted, or when I rolled out of bed and down the stairs on Sunday mornings.  I'd wave them off and tell him they were ridiculous, that they had to say that because they're my parents.  I'd give anything to hear my dad say that again.  I am all teary eyed thinking about it.  Moving on, before I turn into a blubbery mess.

My point is that I've always had people in my life that believe in me when I am not strong enough to believe in myself.  Coaches and teachers have taken time to explain drills and algebraic equations that I couldn't seem to grasp.  They took the time to make me stronger and smarter.

I didn't comprehend just how important that was until I began coaching, until it was my turn to teach, encourage and believe in others.  Teenage girls (and boys) are by nature insecure - those years stick with us forever, no matter how much we think that they don't.  

Most of us outgrow our insecurities over time, as we grow into ourselves, but every once in awhile, we are revisited by our younger insecure selves, at moments when we least expect them to appear.  Think about it - when you go shopping for new glasses, new jeans, new shoes, or a new swimsuit . . . and nothing seems to fit the way you'd like . . . what is your first thought?  Mine is usually "why do they only make clothes for skinny people" or "why are my feet so big."  See what I mean?  

I know that I cannot possibly erase all of the insecurities my girls have; that's not my goal.  My responsibility is to teach them that it's okay to have faults and to make mistakes, and to be confidant in their abilities while doing so.  Miss a shot?  10?  15?  So what.  Hustle back and play defense.  I want to ignite a fire and confidence within each of them, one that will stay with them and overtake the insecurities.  My goal is to feed the fire, to nurture it, to watch it shine, day by day, until it sticks and they become strong, independent, confident young adults.

And so I coach...