As a collegiate athlete, doing hard things was a given. The alarm would go off at the crack of dawn, signaling the start of a 5 a.m. weight-lifting session. By 11 a.m., while most people were preparing for lunch, I was already deep into shooting practice. And at 4 p.m., when the body craved rest, it was time for another grueling 3-hour practice session that tested every ounce of stamina and mental toughness. Doing hard things was part of the daily grind as a collegiate athlete.
Now, as a retired athlete, I’ve come to appreciate the value of rest, but sometimes that comfort zone starts to feel a bit too cozy. This week, I found an unexpected opportunity to push my limits in a new way.
On my active rest days, I enjoy hitting the local gym for a good stretch and a session in the steam room. For those who might not know, a steam room is far more intense than a sauna. I settled into the steam room at 6:57 a.m., set my alarm for 7:15, and braced myself for what I anticipated would be a challenging 18 minutes.
A few minutes in, the humidity was overwhelming. The air was thick and hard to breathe, and I kept telling myself it had to be nearing 7:15. When I checked the time, I was dismayed to see it was only 7:02. Just five minutes in, and I was already itching to escape. The only things keeping me there were my stubbornness and the promise I’d made to myself.
As the minutes dragged on, my inner dialogue began to falter. The voice in my head was pleading with me to leave, suggesting there was no reason to stay. But then, two girls walked in. Instantly, my inner athlete awoke. I told myself, “Just don’t leave before they do.” It became a silent competition, with me as the only participant.
I started to feel light-headed and should have considered leaving, but instead, I focused on mind over matter. I began counting my breaths: inhaling for 4 seconds, counting "1," exhaling for 4 seconds, and counting "2." My goal was to reach 60 counts before leaving.
Growing up in the sports world tough love was all I knew. Merriam-Webster dictionary defines tough love as; love or affectionate concern expressed in a stern or unsentimental manner (as through discipline) especially to promote responsible behavior.
Here's the deal with tough love... when you're raised in an environment where love is tough, it shapes your perception of love as always being tough. Does that resonate? If not, take a moment to reread it slowly.
Boundaries are clear in sports. There are literal lines on the floor that will tell you when you've gone too far. It’s black and white: you’re either in bounds or you’re out. One step on that line and bam! The referee will blow their whistle.
But in real life? It’s more like an abstract field where the lines are blurry. There are no referees to blow the whistle when you’ve pushed too far or thought too much. Instead, you’re left to figure out your own boundaries, your own rules. There’s no clear end goal, no simple scoreboard to tell you how you’re doing.
Sports offer a form of escapism. They let you channel your energy, focus on something concrete, and let off steam. They give you a safe space to challenge yourself without the weight of real-world consequences. They help you grow in a controlled environment, delaying some of the harsher lessons of life.
But then the game ends, and you’re left with the challenge of navigating the complexities of adulthood. The lines on the field disappear, and you have to draw your own. You have to figure out when you’ve gone too far and how to get back on track. There’s no referee to guide you, no simple rules to follow.
Instead, you have to learn to listen to your own internal cues, to understand your own limits, and to define your own success. It’s a daunting task, but it’s also an opportunity. The game may be over, but now you have the chance to shape your own path and find your own way. It’s less about following rules and more about creating them, finding your own balance, and setting your own goals.
In that way, maybe the end of sports isn’t so much a loss as it is a chance to start a new game—one where you get to decide the rules and boundaries for yourself.
At least that's what I'm telling myself...
I was that kid who'd run through a wall for their coach. Any task that was asked of me was never too much. My coaches expected perfection and I did everything I could to provide that.
I remember one practice in college where we were doing "Shell Drill". For those of you who are unfamiliar, it's where you practice your defensive rotations over and over again until the coaches decide it looks good enough, or get tired of blowing their whistle. And of course, this was one of my favorite drills.
During that particular practice session, we had a group of new Freshmen who were struggling to adapt to the fast pace of college basketball. Rotations were out of sync, assignments were being missed, and there was a lot of extra running involved as a result. About 20 minutes in and it was my turn to miss a rotation. But instead of a gentle correction, I was singled out and ripped a new one for my mistake. The message was clear - as team captain and a leader on defense, perfection was not just expected, it was demanded. I was the standard, and any lowering of that standard was a direct reflection of my effort - at least, that's what I told myself.
My love for defense runs deep. Defense is a mindset - a test of willpower. When exhaustion sets in and the pressure is on, can you rise to the occasion? Can you find the strength to push through and give it your all for 24 more seconds? These were questions I asked myself time and time again, and the answer was always yes. I'd do anything for my team, my coaches... I'd run through a wall for someone if I had to. And I'd do it without question or hesitation.
Throughout my career, I never saw a problem with this. In all honesty, I still don't. If you want to make it to the next level, you have to be willing to run through walls. This blog is about asking yourself what do you need once the wall has been ran through? This was something I was never asked.
As an athlete, I was always focused on asking others what they needed to succeed. How could I support them better? What more could I do for them? But in all my efforts to please others, I never stopped to consider what I needed myself. This pattern followed me beyond the realm of sports, turning me into a dedicated people-pleaser who would go to great lengths for others, without realizing my own needs. I used to believe I was low-maintenance in most aspects of life, but the truth is, I am human and I do have needs that deserve acknowledgment.
I may not have all the answers to my needs just yet, but I'm on a journey to discover them. So, here's a gentle reminder to all my washed-up athletes out there (and anyone else tuning in), that your needs are important. Keep pushing your boundaries, keep aiming for the stars, but above all, take a moment to ask yourself: what do I need right now? And then, muster up the courage to speak up and ask for it.Until next time.
