Superpower #6: Athleticism

 It is impossible to reflect on your list of superpowers for very long without waxing long and poetically about your athleticism. You are remarkably athletic and always have been. I’m not sure when I first realized your capabilities in this area, although some of my earliest memories are of pulling you off table and countertops. As soon as you could walk, you ran, you climbed, you jumped. You weren’t surrounded by babies your own age at that time; you spent all your time with your brother (2 ½ years older) and your sister (4 years older). It didn’t occur to me that you were exceptionally strong and physically gifted because you were all just playing together.

One of my favorite early stories illustrates how athletic you are. We were hosting a springtime party at our old house on Barbaralee. For some reason, I remember it as either Grace’s first communion or Lucy’s baptism, though both events put you at an older age than I swear you were at this party. In my memory, you are a little over a year old and new to walking, but maybe you were closer to two or even 3. Regardless, we had just erected a trampoline encased in a sturdy net in the backyard. It was one of those perfect, precious spring mornings drenched in sunlight. The trees were waving bridal blossoms in a warm breeze and all of us pale Midwesterners were emerging, blinking, into the warm promise of summer. I remember you in a white, lacy dress. I remember helping you onto the trampoline with your siblings and walking away. When I returned after greeting some guests, my cousin was approaching the trampoline with her own 2-year-old on her hip, similarly clad in pastel finery. She helped her onto the trampoline where you and your siblings were busily bouncing away, shrieking and giggling.

My cousin hovered protectively nearby, and I stopped to watch. Previously I had zipped you in with your siblings and hustled off to party hosting duties elsewhere. My cousin’s daughter clung, terrified, to the edge of the trampoline looking slightly horrified. She struggled to maintain a seated position while you bounced joyfully with your siblings who both outweighed you by quite a bit. It was the first time I realized that you were strong and athletic—well beyond your peers. Comparing you to a 4- and 6-year-old really wasn’t a reasonable comparison, though by the time you came into the family as the 3^rd baby in just under 4 years, I had long since abandoned consulting baby books about expected physical milestones. Did you walk early? I have no idea. It seems likely that you did, and that you rocketed through all the expected physical achievements rapidly and effortlessly. You’ve been doing that all along.

A few years later, I remember taking you to swimming lessons with your siblings. I had convinced the director to take you early, eschewing the typical 3-year-old requirement because you were clearly confident and ready even at the tender age of 2 and three quarters. A year later, when most of your preschool peers joined the lessons, you had progressed several levels. I vividly recall sitting on the sidelines nursing your little sister (and trying to keep yet another busy-body baby girl out of the water in between times) and watching your classmate dog paddling eagerly after rubber ducks, encased in a flotation device they called a swim belt. I turned my head to see you practicing dives in the deep end. At the end of that session, your instructor wrote that you had no trouble with the physical requirements of the class, but that you sometimes had “a little trouble listening.” I chuckled to myself at the time. You were a fine listener for someone who was not quite 4 years old. The problem was that most of your classmates were two to three years older than you and consequently had a bit of a maturity advantage.

And so your athletic achievements continued. You were always big and incredibly strong and coordinated and whenever we connected you with kids your own age, we realized anew how very athletic you were. You were the best on every team and in every sport we signed up for without exception. As we reached the age when players started to specialize in one sport or another, you reliably outperformed them in whatever game they were training for. You were just born athletic.

It ceased to be much of a surprise to us after a while, and we were neither surprised by it, nor especially impressed. It was just part of who you were.

I probably need to write a separate superpower about basketball--the sport you ended up choosing to love and focus on and where your athletic gifts have soared. Suffice it to say that when you put your mind and energy towards one sport over all others, your performance and accolades shot to the very highest heights. But before all that happened, you were a strong, cheerful, athletic little girl whose superpower manifested mainly in an ability to keep up with kids 2, 4 and even a lot more years older. 

 To paraphrase Spider-Man, “With great athleticism comes great responsibility.” I hope you’ll always use your remarkable strength, agility, and coordination to serve and inspire others. And, like you always do, use your superpowers to have a whole lot of fun in the big, beautiful life you’re launching into!

Superpower #5: JOY!

 

 

There is no question that one of your best superpowers is joy. You were born stuffed and sparkling full of JOY, Claire. At your volleyball game the other night, I was struck again by your gift of joy as you celebrated point after point with your team. You were all having an exceptional night, you most of all, and I swear your smile could have lit up the whole gym. Joy just emanated from every cell and pore of your strong, healthy young body.

Volleyball isn’t always joyful for you. Though you are an exceptional athlete, you are not as well trained in that sport as your primary and favorite game (basketball). It weighs on you, sometimes, this lack of precision in your play, especially since you play a technical and difficult position (middle hitter).  There are two things I often say about your volleyball game: one, you play volleyball like a basketball player. Two, you make plays that no more highly trained middle hitter could make, but you miss plays that a more highly trained middle hitter could make. By the first, I mean that all of your instincts are one handed. Volleyball requires you to operate often off both feet at once and with both hands at once, specifically during blocking. Basketball is the opposite. Basketball is all played on one side or the other with the feet moving and landing on one foot at a time. You love the slide (you call them “dogs”) where the middle swings around behind the setter to hit out of the right side of the net.  I used to love those, too, because they allow you to jump off one foot which makes it feel like a layup. But when you block, you force yourself to reach with both hands. As the season is progressing, you are getting better at it, but your instincts are all basketball, that is to say, one sided.

When you are fighting these instincts, I watch you draw on your deep well of inner joy to overcome frustration and forgive yourself for the errors you make. I was talking to the mom of one of your oldest friends (who is herself one of MY oldest friends) and I mentioned how you play best when you are playing with joy. You thrive with energy and enthusiasm and a little bit of silliness in your game. If you aren’t smiling, you aren’t playing well; I can almost guarantee that. She agreed that her daughter is similar and, indeed, the two of you have often gotten in trouble with coaches and teachers for goofing off. If they were paying attention, though, they would realize that to get the best out of you, they need to tap into your JOY.

Your joy is never more evident than when you tap into your exceptional innate athletic ability to make a play that most middle hitters can never make. You’re strong in the back row, which is unusual for your position, and I love seeing you snap out a fist to pop up an improbable tip or leap in the air to crush a wayward ball at the net to the opposing team’s floor. Your joy resonates all the way through your body when you are playing your games, and the tuning fork of my mother love vibrates happily in response.

 

I always thought that your sports provided a great conduit for accessing the deep well of joy within you, and for the most part I believe this is true.

I probably should have realized that anything that speaks so eloquently to our hearts and our superpowers, must inevitably also have the power to wound us the most deeply. Certainly, I will never forget the night you decided to give up on club volleyball completely. You were a freshman in high school, and we had spent the day at a tournament in Davenport. It was early in the basketball season, and you had been watching the clock nervously the entire day, knowing that you had to get back for basketball practice back home. Your team continued to win, which meant we had to stay later and later to play in later stages of the tournament—quarterfinals, semi-finals, and the day wore on. Around 4 o’clock, you came to me distraught and asked me what you should do—abandon your volleyball team in the championships or skip the varsity practice of the game you loved best. Neither option was good. You grieved and worried. You told your volleyball coaches you were leaving, and they chastised you. You texted your basketball coach that you weren’t coming to practice, and she gave a cryptic, irritated response. In the end, you led your team to a tournament championship, skipped basketball practice, and sobbed all the way home. You broke out in hives all over your chest and back, and we ended the day cuddled up in your bed together talking for hours about leadership and sports and commitment and talent and time and life. We both cried a lot that day. And we made the decision that you would no longer play volleyball outside of school because basketball was your first and only true sports love and no 14-year-old girl should suffer so much for any game.

It may seem strange that I am telling this story in the context of your superpower of joy, but I think it is important to remind you–my deeply and inherently joyful girl–that the only way to truly experience bone deep and soul true joy is to acknowledge and accept its opposite.  The sorrow you felt on that February night fueled the deep joy you now feel in your accomplishments on the basketball court and your certainty about your choice to give your other sports (volleyball and soccer) your raw athleticism but only a little bit of your time outside of the school season.

Last night, you had me read an essay you wrote about your basketball career. It contained all the stories I expected–your triumphs and friendships and lots and lots of fun. But it also contained a sadder theme that I wasn’t expecting. You talked about your sorrow at leaving your beloved school team with me as your coach. You mentioned how scared and left out you felt that first year with the much higher-profile travel team. You were proud to have been invited to join such a prestigious group, but sad to leave the comfort, familiarity and friendship of your old team behind. There was a certain longing I had not recognized in the moment. There was more regret. I asked you about it when I finished helping you edit it. “I never knew it was that hard on you,” I said. “You never really acted that sad.”

“That’s because I’m a good hider,” you said with your usual radiant smile.

“Oh honey,” I said, not knowing what else there was to say.

Your superpower of joy is deeper and richer and fuller for having had those sad, hard moments. The sad, hard moments are inevitable, even in the most joy-filled of lives. Your spirit is built for JOY, CC, but with that power comes great responsibility. The responsibility is to yourself–-to let yourself feel the sad that comes with the joy knowing that it will be fuller, richer, and more wonderful for feeling both.

I am going to end now, as I feel like I am trying to articulate the plot of the movie Inside Out (which has to mean that the conclusion isn’t really that profound). Embrace and lean into your joy and know that you are at your best when you are living a life chock full of it. And never be afraid to feel it all.