My forehead lay magnetized to the ground. My arms extended forward, above my head, along the earth. Through the tips of openly spread fingers, I reached for a gain, any infinitesimal gain, in space.
It was Friday. The week had been long, its events had transpired in a whirlwind. Only much different than a whirlwind, for it had not sent me on an aimless journey in the wind, this whirlwind had rooted me in the ground. It had rooted me in the realities of a long, seemingly never-ending week. A week with no finish lines.
A powerful encounter with the Navy Seals. The passing of my Grandfather. An impromptu trip across America to say good-bye. An apathetic team performance . Moving house. Departing for Argentina.
By Friday at 10am, such powerful happenings had caste me into a profound fog. It was not a mystical fog, the one that hovers between the treetops in the land of fairies. It was the type of fog that reaches deep into the core of the earth, and the only way we know it exists is because its visible residue lingers along the forest floor.
On Friday after practice at 10am, I walked, entrenched in that fog, with my teammates to the OTC’s Visitor’s Center for an Athlete Yoga Session sponsored by Lulu Lemon. Wendy, the OTC’s Sport Psychologist remarked on how quiet I seemed. I hadn’t even noticed.
As I rested catatonically, on a new Lulu Yoga mat, the instructor, Pro-snowboarder turned Yogi, Katie Brauer, instructed the sore, tight, tired, bunch of athletes gathered before her to take the child’s pose.
I inhaled, my hands reached forward. I exhaled, my tight, hockey hips extended backwards. They sank deeper. “As you breathe, let yourself become one with the ground,” she instructed.
One with the ground. I thought of my Grandfather. The elephant tears we cried when his body descended. The grief of a family’s loss.
One with the ground. I thought of the Navy Seals. The pain of sacrifice. The pain of persistence. The pain endured to forge their brotherhood.
One with the ground. I thought of Mindfulness. The Monkey mind freed by anchoring breathes. The passion of the moment.
One with the ground. I thought of all the Prayers, laughter and love, I had shared in the past few days. The power of belief. The power of the human spirit.
I breathed, sank deeper, into relaxation, into the earth. We moved through the poses. And when the session ended, I felt renewed. At peace in the fog.
Walking outside, I sat on the stairs of the Visitor’s Center, opened my journal, and started writing. My words hinted toward the National Team’s upcoming task in Argentina where we will meet the 1st, 3rd, and 5th teams ranked in the world. We are ranked 13th.
I asked myself a simple question – do I believe? This is my response.
A challenge awaits us. We must succeed; we must put it on the line. Do I believe? I believe we will face multiple challenges in Argentina. And if we push ourselves to our limits, to near failure, we will encounter pain and duress. I believe it will be hard. We will test limits; we will be forced to ask ourselves if we have the will to endure the discomfort. I want to be asking those questions. I want to be so far on the edge of our limits that we ask ourselves what we are truly capable of. Because only when we ask, do we have the power to answer.
My forehead lay magnetized to the ground. My arms extended forward, above my head, along the earth. Through the tips of openly spread fingers, I reached for a gain, any infinitesimal gain, in space.
It was Friday. The week had been long, its events had transpired in a whirlwind. Only much different than a whirlwind, for it had not sent me on an aimless journey in the wind, this whirlwind had rooted me in the ground. It had rooted me in the realities of a long, seemingly never-ending week. A week with no finish lines.
A powerful encounter with the Navy Seals. The passing of my Grandfather. An impromptu trip across America to say good-bye. An apathetic team performance . Moving house. Departing for Argentina.
By Friday at 10am, such powerful happenings had caste me into a profound fog. It was not a mystical fog, the one that hovers between the treetops in the land of fairies. It was the type of fog that reaches deep into the core of the earth, and the only way we know it exists is because its visible residue lingers along the forest floor.
On Friday after practice at 10am, I walked, entrenched in that fog, with my teammates to the OTC’s Visitor’s Center for an Athlete Yoga Session sponsored by Lulu Lemon. Wendy, the OTC’s Sport Psychologist remarked on how quiet I seemed. I hadn’t even noticed.
As I rested catatonically, on a new Lulu Yoga mat, the instructor, Pro-snowboarder turned Yogi, Katie Brauer, instructed the sore, tight, tired, bunch of athletes gathered before her to take the child’s pose.
I inhaled, my hands reached forward. I exhaled, my tight, hockey hips extended backwards. They sank deeper. “As you breathe, let yourself become one with the ground,” she instructed.
One with the ground. I thought of my Grandfather. The elephant tears we cried when his body descended. The grief of a family’s loss.
One with the ground. I thought of the Navy Seals. The pain of sacrifice. The pain of persistence. The pain endured to forge their brotherhood.
One with the ground. I thought of Mindfulness. The Monkey mind freed by anchoring breathes. The passion of the moment.
One with the ground. I thought of all the Prayers, laughter and love, I had shared in the past few days. The power of belief. The power of the human spirit.
I breathed, sank deeper, into relaxation, into the earth. We moved through the poses. And when the session ended, I felt renewed. At peace in the fog.
Walking outside, I sat on the stairs of the Visitor’s Center, opened my journal, and started writing. My words hinted toward the National Team’s upcoming task in Argentina where we will meet the 1st, 3rd, and 5th teams ranked in the world. We are ranked 13th.
I asked myself a simple question – do I believe? This is my response.
A challenge awaits us. We must succeed; we must put it on the line. Do I believe? I believe we will face multiple challenges in Argentina. And if we push ourselves to our limits, to near failure, we will encounter pain and duress. I believe it will be hard. We will test limits; we will be forced to ask ourselves if we have the will to endure the discomfort. I want to be asking those questions. I want to be so far on the edge of our limits that we ask ourselves what we are truly capable of. Because only when we ask, do we have the power to answer.
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