I have always been inspired by the story of the tortoise and the hare. While there are plenty of great underdog stories, this one has particularly stuck with me, as throughout my track and field career, my mantra has always been: ‘slow and steady wins the race.’
Although I started long jumping at the ripe old age of 7, I was not an age-group champion, record-holder, or star. I was always competitive and in the mix, but I was never the one on top of the podium.
With time– and lots of training along the way– my place in this narrative never changed, as although I was working hard, I wasn’t producing the marks that would make me a standout.
Many would say I would be a “late-bloomer.”
In high school, I improved every season, ultimately going from being a 17 foot jumper to a consistent 19 foot jumper. I never was an Arcadia Champion (shoutout to my California athletes), and while I picked up a few League and County Championships along the way, I never even made the California State meet until my senior year, where I ended up placing fifth.
While my marks were good and I had interest from quite a few schools, I wasn’t a headliner recruit. I was lucky, however, to catch the eye of USC, who recruited me on a basis of the potential they saw within me.
Entering a school with a storied track and field program, I was sure collegiate track and field would be my time.
I was going to be the “late bloomer,” remember?
Yet, I was unaware, however, of the long journey– filled with so many ups and downs– that it would take for me to finally bloom.
Prior to even arriving at school, the coach who had recruited me decided to leave to another program, and thus I entered the first day of practice with not only a new training program, but also a new coach.
This would be the first of the 3 coaching changes I would face in my four year career.
Despite the coaching change, and the adjustment into collegiate track and field, I was still able to finish off my Freshman track season with a new personal best of 6.13m (20-1.75) and 6.17mw (20-3).
While not the Freshman season I had hoped for, I was happy to finish the year injury free and with a new PR (that’s personal record for all you non-track readers).
Little did I know, however, that the mark I had set that year, would remain my personal best for 2 more seasons.
My Sophomore track season began eerily too similar to the first, as I had yet another new coach. I was unaware, however, that this would be the slightest of my worries come track season.
During practice the day before my first indoor meet of the season I fractured my fibula (the little bone that makes up the outside of your shin) while taking a jump, and thus my Sophomore indoor season snapped–literally–right before my eyes (See a future post for more about this!!) From that moment on I went through the post-injury rehab process to get back to competing.
After being cleared to return to the track towards the end of my Sophomore outdoor season, I was determined to make the most out of the few meets that remained left in the season. Yet, no matter how badly I wanted to come back and compete well, my body had another plan, as my best jump of the year was a foot off of my personal best.
With half of my collegiate career done– I went into my Junior Season with a chip on my shoulder and a longing to make a comeback from the injury that had plagued my Sophomore campaign.
In an effort to make sure I had the season I was working towards- I began focusing more on the little things: nutrition, sleep, recovery– the list goes on. I knew what it had felt like to have had the sport I loved so much taken away from me, and through that experience I realized I would do all that I could to make sure that I was not only competing, but competing well.
Despite these efforts, it was much harder than I had anticipated to comeback from an injury that occurred while I was jumping. Although consciously I didn’t feel scared to jump, my body was afraid of re-injuring itself, and thus I picked up bad habits that affected my performance.
I left my Junior indoor and outdoor track seasons still inches short of the personal best I had jumped my Freshman year.
As my Senior season approached, achieving my collegiate track and field goals became an all or nothing game, and I felt as though I was running– literally– out of time.
After some changes in my fall training program, I went into the indoor season stronger, faster, and more confident than I had ever been. I was ready to finally return to feeling like myself on the runway— something I hadn’t experienced since the end of my Freshman season.
Despite my newfound strengths, however, my indoor season remained on trend to my past— no new PRs, no qualifying for Nationals— and needless to say I went into the outdoor season feeling somewhat defeated.
After changing so much and working so hard— why was I remaining the same jumper I had been? When would the breakthrough happen?
While I couldn’t change the marks or performances I had during the indoor season, or during the past 3 of my collegiate seasons; I decided that I could change how I performed outdoors.
I opened up my outdoor season with the best season opener I had had in 3 years.
I kept this momentum going, and improved each meet- until it happened.
3 years almost to the day— I had finally set a PR, and was ranked in the top 15 of the NCAA. Although still early in the season, I was happy with the mark, but more importantly, I was happy to have finally broken through the chains that I had been bound to for the past 3 years.
Moving into the meets to come— I was excited to compete again, and brought the same fun, and lighthearted energy I thought I had lost back to competing.
As a result, I placed 2nd and made the podium at my conference meet (PAC-12), contributed 8 points to help our team win the title, qualified for NCAAs, became an NCAA All American (8th place), contributed 1 crucial point to help my team win an NCAA Championship, and had 2 new personal bests (6.42m- 21 ft. & 6.47mw- 21 ft. 2.75 in.).
So the whole “late bloomer” thing I mentioned before, you’re thinking that’s me now, right?
Despite all of the adversity I endured throughout my collegiate career, I was still able to persevere, rise from it, and develop this underdog story that I’ve just shared with you.
And after reading all of that, you’re probably thinking to yourself– I’ve heard stuff like this a million times before: bad things happen and people dig deep within themselves to still accomplish their dreams– a cliché.
And you know what, you’re probably right. There are plenty of other people who have stories like mine. People who have overcome obstacles much greater than what I had to, in order to achieve a form of success, which is also probably greater than mine.
Yet, here I am, still telling you my story.
Why?
Because I’ve noticed a culture change in the sport of track and field–in all sports in general.
We’ve become so enthralled by the extraordinary: stories of high school phenoms and collegiate superstars going on to dominate the professional scene; it’s those stories that highlight all of the media coverage.
And that’s to be expected. Like I said before, we are enthralled by those who can accomplish such great feats at such an early age, because they demonstrate to us that we don’t have to wait around for our wildest dreams to come true.
But what about those people who just aren’t and will never be in that 1% of people? The people who haven’t achieved the same levels of success of those that they see all over social media?
How can they know that while they may not be in that 1%, that they can still have success too?
Hopefully by sharing more stories like mine.
As cliché as it may sound, I am incredibly grateful for all of the adversity I endured during my collegiate career. Through it, I learned to wear each and every defeat I faced as a badge of honor, as without my defeats, I wouldn’t have been able to wholeheartedly appreciate the triumphs.
That’s the great thing about ‘slow and steady’– as while it might take you lightyears longer to achieve things others can do in one go around– when you finally achieve them, the feeling is so much greater knowing all you’ve had to overcome to get there.
Now that’s not to discredit those who are natural born talents who check their goals off with ease. Rather, it is to recognize that for some of us, that just isn’t, and may never be a reality.
We all can’t be the hare– those who have the skills to instantly make an impact. Some of us have to be the tortoise– those who keep on keeping on and take a little longer to get where they’re going.
And that’s okay.
Just because it may take longer, doesn’t make achieving the goal worth any less than had you done it sooner. It simply means you just needed a little bit more time to get there.
While the next stage of my track and field journey is merely just beginning, and I have yet to accomplish all I want to within the sport– I hope my story can demonstrate that there is power in being the tortoise amongst a room full of hares.
Take pride in knowing that ‘slow and steady’ can ultimately win the race.
Sending you all the patience and endurance you need to conquer that next goal!
Until Next Time–
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