Perseverance: Skating as an adult and remembering the joy and the why

Perseverance is defined as "the act of continuing to try to achieve something despite obstacles, failure, or opposition." I can't think of a better word to describe what my first season of adulthood and skating as an adult has looked like. It is trying, it is exhausting, it is difficult, it is stressful. It has required much strength and sacrifice and adaption, adjustment.

When you skate as a kid, at least in my experience, you're somewhat aware of the expenses and travel, but it's not a worry. Mom and dad, or whoever, will take care of it/figure it out. Your job is to skate, and ideally, skate well.

As an adult, I am acutely aware of the weather and the roads, how my car will fare, paying special attention to not getting in an accident, how much gas costs and my mileage, which hotel is the cheapest but still safe, how much time I have to take off work, the cost to register and the amount I'll owe my coach, etc. I am acutely aware of how responsible I am for everything from getting myself to the competition, paying for it, to simply making sure I wake up on time. All that is added to my plate on top of the already present stress around competing in general.

This has been such a joy taker for me. I get nervous about the roads when I see the snow falling in constant, heavy flakes. I get nervous when I have to click "checkout" on my registration. I get nervous when I look at my bank account and calculate how much one or two days of competing will hurt. I get nervous when I'm out on my practice ice and my skating just feels awful. This is because, I know. My ignorance is gone and I am so aware of everything that's going into this.

I've been really struggling to not let the added stressors impact my skating too much but it's hard. Today, I competed in three events at a competition 130 miles from where I live and I estimate it will cost me $320. Last month I skated at a competition 350 miles away and it cost me a grand total of $759.41. As someone who doesn't have a ton of money coming in these numbers are painful. Even more so when I don't skate well.

During my freeskate today I fell and absolutely ate shit. I'm not really sure why, I haven't fallen in competition in over two years. My best guess is a combination of being tired and being spooked from falling out of my previous jump. Whatever the case, it was a really frustrating experience. In the moment, when I fell, I did a "ughhhh" and slowly rose back up to standing before pushing to finish my program with a big smile on my face and some laughter. As I skated off, too, and for the first few minutes afterwards I was just making jokes about it and giggling with my coach and friends. However, once I had a moment to breathe my eyes started welling up. I was upset. My friends and family had finally been able to watch me skate and I just messed up a program I know I can skate with ease. But also, in my head I was thinking about how much I paid to faceplant. It spooked me. Being responsible for the financial aspect is exhausting because it's ever present in my mind and ever so important. I can't just not care.

This has been the biggest recurring theme of joy taking for me this year. I have had to make hard decisions about what doing my sport looks like because I simply can't afford it all. And frankly, it sucks. It sucks to be in this position. I've had to make some really hard adult decisions because I am an adult and have to act as such. As my dad said, "I'm glad you're presented with the opportunity to make the adult decision and do the right thing/make the hard choices but I'm sad you're subjected to that. I know it had to happen at some point but I'm sad for you, but also proud of you- if that makes sense." It's been hard for both of us- me in the aspect of everything I've just said and him in the aspect of wanting to prevent me from going through these struggles but knowing me handling these hardships is him succeeding as a parent. He's taught me how to adult, that's sort of been his entire job the last eighteen years, and still is of course, just in a different capacity. That doesn't make me growing up any less bittersweet. My dad often tells me not to be a quitter but now, in this season of adulthood, I had to tell him that sometimes choosing to be a "quitter" is the more brave and commendable thing to do. If me giving up on having a full competitive season means having less financial burden and stress and benefiting myself long term, it is the right choice even if in some ways it is being a "quitter". That doesn't make it any less painful but it does represent maturity.

I don't know that I have any wise words on how to not stress about money. That's a battle I'm still currently fighting and figuring out. But what I do know is how to see the good despite the bad. 

As the tears started welling up in my eyes and threatening to come running down my cheeks I remembered something very important. Out in those bleachers, waiting to see me, was a six year old girl who thought the world of me and was certainly proud of me despite my fall. When she first arrived at the rink, Laurel spotted me and came running, jumping into my arms with a joyful "Miss Joleigh!!!" Her resounding words to me, her mantras if you will, before I skated were as follows: I love you. I've missed you for so long. I hope you win! I'm very excited to watch you skate. 

I first met Laurel through my job at a preschool before eventually coaching her in Learn to Skate. Over the last year and some change she has grown to be one of the most special people in my life. Her "Good luck Miss Joleigh" paper that she gifted me last spring was my motivation at my last competition of the year. I remember looking at it right before heading out onto the ice to take my first ever test (pre-preliminary moves in the field) which I passed with honors. She's my gold star, if you will. My good luck. Her love, confidence, and admiration for me shine so bright and are a beacon of hope.

Remembering her, sitting out there in her all gold get up (my star!) waiting to tell me how proud of me she was stopped my tears. The fact that I got up, laughed it off, and persevered to the end was so strong and such a good symbol for her and all the other little (and big) girls (and boys) who witnessed it. I was a good example of strength and healthy mentality around competing and "failures". I put on my brave face and went up to my sweet girl with joy and love. I showed up as a role model. 

It's okay to be frustrated with how I skated. It's okay to be overwhelmed with the financial burden of paying for all of my skating. It's okay and its so healthy to feel my heavy feelings. However, it is vital that I don't let them bring me down. It's vital that I persevere. Today's mistake doesn't mean that I suck at skating and should quit (even if my mind can sometimes tell me that). Today's mistakes was an opportunity for growth and an opportunity for me to help others see that it's okay if things don't go as planned.

Getting off the ice with a smile on my face and laughing with my coach and then talking about what I did do good hopefully inspired someone who was there. Maybe it'll help them remember that no matter what, at the end of the day skating is supposed to be fun. Feel your feelings but don't wallow in them. Walk into the rink, every event, every practice with positivity. Indubitably try your damn hardest to choose to find the joy. I can accept and admit that that fall sucked. But I can also say that my camel spin was better than normal and that my twizzles were stronger and prettier. It wasn't a shit show, it was highs and lows and honestly it's almost always going to be that way and if you refuse to see the highs you will come to hate skating.

Skating is still going to be hard. Being able to objectively see the strengths along with my weaknesses doesn't magically take away all of the stressors. I'm not going to magically have a ton of money so I can compete as much as my little heart desires. That's perfectly okay and normal and healthy as long as you choose joy. My coach Hannah reminds me, and her other skaters, and frankly everyone she interacts with that the point of skating is to have fun. 

When it's hard, when things are stressful (for whatever reason) remember to remember your strengths. I would also advise, to find your why. I skate for myself. To keep myself strong, to help me handle stressful situations, grow as a person, and get to be creative. It's also a huge sense of community for me. I also skate for Laurel and all the other little girls I know look up to me. I skate so they can see the result of my perseverance. How can I tell them that falls are okay and to get back up again if I don't get up from my fall and push through? 

You are strong. You are brave. You are perseverance, or you will be if you try. I hope that something I had to say resonated with you, inspired you. If there's anything you take from this it's to find the joy and keep the joy and to be tenacious. You are resilient and whatever life, or skating, throws your way, you will survive it. Just remember you are loved and you can accomplish anything if you set your mind to it.

I'm proud of you always and wishing you all the best.

Stay safe and so much love, 

Joleigh June 

Oh and for the record, much to my surprise, I did win just like Laurel thought I would:)