Basketball season has been over for a while, so I really have no excuse for falling behind on my writing. But that is life, isn’t it? An ongoing battle to follow ones dreams, even when it’s down a bumpy road.
And the journey toward a worthwhile goal usually is bumpy. I mean, if it were easy to get everything we wanted, exactly when we wanted it, life might be kind of boring. Right? At least I tell myself that. And then I try not to get to angry at myself for putting my writing on the back burner for so long, and then I grab a pen.
It’s time to grab your pen, your gym bag, your resume…your strength.
The time is now.
"In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit. "
~Albert Schweitzer
My husband threw a book release party for the launch of my memoir Back on the Court. (well, he did have help from Heidi and Kathy) Friends and family gathered to celebrate. Models, basketball players & coaches, fellow writers, and friends I’ve met over the years through my kid’s preschool, elementary school and middle school days were there. Even a childhood friend who played with me in the sandbox when I was 3 years old suprized me. I wanted to cry. Okay, I did cry. But it was good to shed those tears and take a moment to focus on the friends that have helped support me through this thing called life.
Take a moment…think about those who have helped support you through life?
“It is the friends you can call up at 4 a.m. that matter.”
-Marlene Dietrich
This quote reminds me of my friend Kirsten. The excerpts to follow are from my memoir BACK ON THE COURT. Both take place after I was in an accident, where I was badly injured and lost my fiancé. Both involve Kirsten, who somehow manages to always keep me smiling.
...When I pull back the cardboard flaps of the package that has just been delivered to the front door, all I can see are empty candy wrappers. That’s my Kirsten. I dig deeper; some of the wrappers have candy still intact. I pop a Hershey kiss in my mouth. As the chocolate melts, I scavenge through the wrappers and find, a book of word search puzzles, a hand painted journal, a plastic toy that looks like it came from McDonalds and the book Curious George Goes to the Hospital. I leaf through the book with what might be my first real smile since the accident.
***
...It’s 11:30 pm when I get home. Before I crawl under my covers, I check my machine and there are several messages, one is from Kirsten. After turning over in bed for two hours, I pick up the phone and dial. It’s 4:30 a.m. in New York, but then, Kirsten is used to my untimely calls.
“Hi, Kirsten,” I say, now on the couch slowly rolling my head, and phone, side to side.
“Hey Sōn, how are ya?”
“I’m alright,” I say, finishing with my neck and finding a comfortable spot on the couch, “but my neck is killing me, I can’t sleep.”
“Really,” Kirsten says, not bothering to hold back a tired yawn.
“Yeah, I’m so sick of it. One stupid doctor tried to put me on antidepressants. I was so pissed. If I need antidepressants, it’s not for my neck.” I pull a yellow throw from off the back of the couch and lay it across Brianna and my chest. “I hate some doctors. Thank god I like Dr. Perry, my orthopedic surgeon, because my surgery to take the rod out of my leg is coming up on April 12.”
There’s another lengthy yawn from the other end of the line.
“I’m not that boring,” I say, smiling to myself, “oh, and guess what?”
“You scheduled a boob job at the same time?” Kirsten jabs.
I shake my head and laugh. I’m glad I called Kirsten, even if she isn’t. Kirsten cheers me up. My “guess what?” question for Kirsten was concerning my new boyfriend Jason. He wasn’t coming to Spokane for my surgery and though I told him I didn’t care, I really want him there. I have begun to count on him more and more and it scares me. What would happen if I lost him too? I don’t think I could handle more pain. Kirsten helps me forget about the “what if’s” and, without knowing, helps me appreciate the “now.”
There is something about new friendships that help me grow as a person, expand my mind, and make me feel alive, even though it is my true nature to hunker down and be alone. It might not seem that way if you know of my crazy schedule, but I cherish “me” time spent in silence. (I didn’t even have a stereo in my car for 10 years just to have moments of silence) Still, life is about human connection and every time I push my boundaries, and make connections, it enriches my life. Recently I met Kayla. I am 45 years old and I was nervous to introduce myself (come on Sonya). Now I have a new writing partner, an assistant basketball coach and a friend, and my life is the better for it.
Do you ever struggle to get yourself to workout? I’ve worked out once in the last 2 months. (I played basketball on my birthday.) I’m always pretty active. I walk, work around the house and yard, that sort of thing, but other than that I’ve been slightly lazy and It’s time I get out of the lethargic state I’m in and hit the gym.
I know how good it feels to be in shape. I’ve been there on and off my entire life, but these days there always seems to be something that gets in the way. Something more urgent. The laundry, the bills, chauffeuring kids from place to place. Even watching TV at times becomes more urgent.
Excuses. Yes, I know they are all excuses, but how do I get going again? It all started when I hurt my toe (yes toe). It slowed me down, gave me a “real” excuse. I still could have ridden my bike, used the elliptical, things of that sort, but I didn’t, I fell into this lazy state of being (and I’ll admit, a part of me really likes it). But now its time to get after it, like the classic Nike campaign, I will start the laundry, do the dishes and then give my self a kick in the butt….and JUST DO IT!
Never give up. I’ve used this philosophy on the court and in life for a lot of years. When I told my husband I was going to write a book, he said, “What do you mean, you don’t write?” He was right, but I knew after Mark died, after I struggled to go on living and to find happiness again, after that journey, I knew I would share my experience in a book. It wasn’t easy. I spent nearly ten years writing my memoir, taking writing classes, going to workshops and putting pen to paper, and then came the hard part, getting published.
Fifteen years into this writing journey, my kids have moved through preschool, elementary school, middle school and as of last week one is now in high school. My hair has grayed (though you can’t usually tell because it’s highlighted blonde) and my Bampa, my grandpa and a huge inspiration to my writing life, has passed on. Much time has gone by, but I never gave up, and on October 16th my memoir Back on the Court will be released.
Do you have a dream that seems beyond your reach? A goal too lofty? Nonsense, if there is something you strive to achieve, believe in your heart that you will do it, and never give up!
Recently I shot with photographer Tim McGuire for his Human Nature Connection project. We had planned on shooting for a couple hours on Tiger Mountain and ended up hiking and shooting there and then driving over to Little Mt Si for several more hours. An amazing day.
I was drawn to Tim’s project because, as much as I enjoy my time in the gym, nature has often been my savior in life, giving me a chance to sweat, breath and open my mind. I feel at peace there and seek it out it times of stress. I’ve included an except from my book BACK ON THE COURT about one of those times. To see more of Tim's Human Nature photos go to Tim McGuire Images.
excerpt from BACK ON THE COURT…
I can feel the tension that’s been building over the past months escape with every mile and every tear. The tears are all but gone by the time I reach the lodge at Paradise and when I see that the snow pack is low enough for me to reach with a short hike, I gather myself, and head up the mountain. There is something in nature that for me helps relieve tension, and at the same time helps me feel closer to Mark. My dad has climbed Mt. Rainer many times and grew up near the Austrian Alps. Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to the mountains, to nature. It’s in my blood. The love of nature, of fresh air and pine trees, is a part of who I am.
I head up the nearest trail. The hike is steep, hard for me to maneuver with my injured leg. I like it. When I reach the snow there are two young snowboarders practicing jumps. They have hiked up with their boards and built themselves a ramp. I make a miniature snowman out of snowballs, take a self-portrait with the timer on my camera, and then find a dry rock where I can watch the snowboarders from a distance. I think of Mark. He has been gone, dead, for two whole years. It has been two years since I held his face in my hands and kissed his lips. Two years since we held one another tight and made love. The what-ifs, are unthinkable.
Swallowing hard, I lower my face to my knees and cry. When I look up the snowboarders have gone and I am alone on the mountain. The tears have washed through the depths of my soul and I sit in silence as the sun moves low in the sky. When I begin my slow descent down the trail, I am at peace.
I give my daughter a bad time about being too rough on the basketball court, but in reality I love her feistiness. Last week when I asked if she wanted to come to open gym with me, she looked up from her book and yawned. She was snuggled into bed, our dog sassy draped across her.
“Not tonight mom.”
“Alright.” I said.
I grabbed my high-tops and was opening the door when I heard, “Hey mom, wait!”
My assistant coach and her daughter came to open gym as well, and while my assistant and I lowered the hoops and chatted, the girls shot around. Then by two’s, seniors who would no longer be playing for our high school, arrived to play. I was glad to see them, glad that something about the game and the friendships that they’ve built bring them back to this court even though they are finished with their high school careers.
Once enough players arrived, we played full-court basketball and little miss “I want to read my book” was flying up and down the court, hustling for loose balls and crashing the boards. I couldn’t help but smile. It was heaven for me. Twenty years ago, when I nearly lost my life in a car accident, I never would have dreamed I would be in this place. Playing basketball with my daughter. Whatever her future in the game matters not, it’s this moment we share together.
What are some of the moments in your life that make life worth living?
I love basketball and feel very fortunate that I was able to get my college education paid for playing the game, but because I love it doesn’t mean it’s all I do. Too often I talk to young athletes (or their parents) that have decided that they are going to focus on one sport. “For what?” is my first thought. To go pro? .03 percent of high school basketball players make it to the professional level. To get a scholarship to college? Less than 1 percent of kids receive scholarships to play basketball in college. Often the money spent trying to improve a child’s skills in hopes that the child will earn a scholarship, could pay for college itself. And often the result is a child that has injuries from repeated use and no longer loves the game. Being a part of a team is a lot of fun, most of the time, but even when it’s not, a young athlete is staying out of trouble and learning lessons that will help them throughout their lifetime.
Why not play several sports? I expect my kids (the ones I’m raising), and I suggest to the kids that I coach, to play different sports. And why not play instruments, draw, design and create, on top of studying, because as a coach I’ve seen the burn out. A 3rd grader goes full-time select soccer and is done with soccer by middle school. A Senior in high school is recruited to play Division 1 basketball but doesn’t except the scholarship because she’s tired of playing. These are just a couple of many stories I have heard over the years.
I’m 44 years old and I play basketball 2-3 times a week because I love to play. I started playing basketball in 7th grade and added AAU ball when I was in 9th grade, but it wasn’t all consuming. I also played volleyball (they didn’t have school soccer in those days), played softball, ran track, sang in the choir, and hung out with my friends. When I was on the court, I was focused, but the rest of the time I was involved with life, just as I believe it should be for young athletes today.
Have I told you that I’m a basketball coach? I’ve spent twenty years coaching. Ten years as an assistant with high school and middle school kids, and as many years with recreational teams. This however, was my first year as a Head Coach at the high school level, and let me tell you, it was a challenge.
I felt as if I had been dropped into a war zone. There was little time to prepare especially with my big learning curve on the paperwork side of things (In the past my role as an assistant had been to concentrate on the kids). I worked at a harried pace, searching for missing uniforms, organizing equipment and getting the word out about tryouts. After flyers and speeches and meetings and e-mails…I had 15 girls tryout. I was crushed. How could a school of 1000+, half of which are female, have so few girls that wanted to be a part of their school’s basketball program?
My assistant and I focused on the positive. We had enough for a team. Barely. We worked the girls hard mentally and physically, knowing that if they put the effort in, they would see results. If not on the scoreboard, in their heart and soul.
We started with a couple of big wins, but then came loss after loss. We still pushed. Sometimes they pushed back. Did they question our intentions? Why should they trust us? Would we give up on them? A few players gave up on us and we wondered if we would keep enough girls to have a squad? But we did, and the girls that stayed continued to work hard. It wasn’t easy, but they didn’t give up.
Along with study hall and intense practices, we had team building events, goal setting and writing times, basketball movies, circle time, silent time (a crazy concept for high school girls), art projects and an inspiring speech by the 2010 WNBA Coach of the Year, Seattle Storm’s Brian Agler. Still, we struggled. And our team dwindled. When it came to our final game we had 8 players (7 of which could play) but the positive energy shown by the remaining players, even after a 36-61 final loss, reassured me that we had grown as a team.
The season is over now but my coaching continues. Organizing fundraisers, scheduling summer camps and tournaments, getting the word out about our program and just last week my 6’1” senior signed a Letter of Intent to continue her education and play basketball in college. Yes, the coaching continues, and every minute is worth it.
Finding my game face, that determined mindset that helps me accomplish a goal, wasn't easy after my fiancé was killed and I was critically injured in an accident nineteen years ago. I had to rely on the "never give up" attitude and work ethic that I had learned from my days on the basketball court to help me move forward with my life and begin to heal. Though the future was something I didn't want to think about at the time, I set some goals, put on my game face, complete with narrowed eyes and clenched jaw, and battled one day at a time to find the life I have today as a coach, a wife, a mother and a lover of the game.
Putting my dreams on paper has always helped me. The summer before I started high school I set the goal to take 5000 shots so I could improve my game and get ready for high school basketball. I achieved my goal, my summer camp's version of the Peace.Love.Basektball Summer Shooting Challenge and made the varsity basketball team my first year of high school. The next year I became a starter. My senior year, I achieved my ultimate goal, a full-ride athletic scholarship to play basketball. My goals were being realized, but there were many goals along the way that I didn't achieve. I didn't make my goal of First Team All-Greater Spokane League. It was painful to watch that one die, along with others, but they were great lessons. I learned that even when I worked hard, I didn't always get what I wanted. However, I learned to regroup, establish new goals, put on my game face, and work toward my future.
After my accident, it was that "never give up" attitude, instilled in me from my years on the court, that kept me moving forward. I set the goal to walk and went from wheelchair to quad cane, quad cane to cane, and cane to walking. Then I set the goal to play basketball again and that is when my healing truly began. I worked through my grief, strengthened my battered body and found that life was still worth living.
It takes hard work and determination to achieve a goal, but first you must establish a goal that you believe in and then put it in writing. According to a study by Dr. Gail Matthews of Dominican University, people who write down their goals, share their goals with a friend, and send weekly updates to that friend are on average 33% more successful in accomplishing their stated goals than those who merely formulated their goals.
Take the time to make note of your dreams. You can write your goals in a soft leather journal with a fancy tie, in a word document titled "My Awesome Future", or on the back of an old envelope, it matters not, just make it official and write it down. It's helpful to write down when you want to achieve the goal, why you want to achieve it, action steps to reach it, possible obstacles that may arrive when working toward it and how you will overcome these obstacles, but don't let all that scare you. If you need to, make it simple. Grab a pen, write one goal and get to work.
Put on your game face and start setting goals and you will create the future of your dreams.
The following is an excerpt from Sonya Elliott's memoir Back on the Court: A Young Woman's Triumphant Return to Life, Love and Basketball
"I need a new goal in my life. If I can't have Mark, I want back the one other important part of my life. I want to play basketball again...I step on to the basketball court to begin my comeback. Holding the ball near my face, I drink in the familiar smell of leather and then drop the ball to the floor and begin to dribble. I need to dribble the basketball. I need to know that at least one small thing in my life hasn't changed. Dribbling back and forth, back and forth, the rhythm of the ball works its magic on my body and soul. My mind focuses and I forget all that has gone wrong, if only for a moment."
