Shamrock Born, Shamrock Bred

12-27-2013

This week, I learned that I lost one of my high school teammates.  

My coach “didn’t have details”...but he hinted at the cause of death.  The teammates I talked to also “didn’t have details”...but had received hints at the cause of death.

She died suddenly on December 20th, 2013.  The day before my birthday.

Regardless of the cause or time of death, the pain came for those of us who learned of the loss.

As I allowed myself to reflect on the situation, I realized that this girl was my teammate year-round; three sports; for four years.  Cross-country, basketball, and track and field.  I tried in vain to calculate the hours I spent in training with her, the miles I ran by her side; the hours I spent in 12-passenger vans and busses with her, the post-game meals I shared with her; the tears we shed in locker rooms after heartwrenching losses, the laughs and jokes we shared on long runs.  

I replayed the silly costumes for Halloween Spirit Weeks at school, the picture-perfect moments in different states for all of our competitions--the Grand Canyon, Southern California.  I recalled our week-long cross-country camp in the summer of 2005, in the mountains of Utah, just two months after my dad died. She was one of many supportive teammates.  I replayed every lap I watched her run in the 3200m run every spring.  I re-cheered her on.  I recalled the way she carried her body while she ran, saw the twinkle in her eyes when she laughed.

I tried to count the days, the hours, the minutes I spent by her side.

And I realized I was too late.

I realized that I started counting the moments too late in the game.  I realized that I didn’t do a good enough job of keeping in touch, of asking her how her life was, of offering support, or even acknowledging and offering thanks for the four years during which she was such an integral part of my inner circle.

In high school, every team I was on was so loyal to each other.  We were the first to respond to each other’s needs, the first to notice if something had gone amiss.  We were study buddies, pushers, encouragers, and distracters when need be.  We refused to listen to each other talk badly about ourselves; we always had a positive word to cancel out any negative thoughts.

How does someone go from being an immediate part of your daily life, to being just a face you see once in a while, while mindlessly scrolling down your Facebook Newsfeed?

It doesn’t matter that 7 and a half years have gone by since high school graduation.  That’s just time.  When I spoke with some of my teammates on the phone regarding the news, we expressed our love for one another--girls I hadn’t spoken to on the phone in years. Time is just an illusion.  These girls are forever a part of my soul.

The life lessons I learned from my hours, days, weeks, and months of training and competition alongside these ladies shaped me for the rest of my life.  I didn’t have much of a traditional “social circle” in high school; my life revolved around these girls.  They colored my days and brightened the few nights we were allowed to stay out later than normal when we didn’t have to worry about an early morning practice or bus ride to a competition.  They shared in birthday parties and attended my father’s funeral.

How can I give so little attention to the girls who stood by me when the rest of the world wanted nothing to do with me?  How can I not offer thanks for the human spirits who encouraged me and looked the other way when I did make mistakes--maybe caused a turnover in our basketball game, or dropped the shot-put at a bad angle and didn’t win us as many points as I should have?

This moment in time is both an offering of thanks, and one of profound guilt and apology. It is both a goodbye and renewal of dedication.

The beautiful bonds I formed with all my high school teammates are ones I truly cannot separate myself from, ever.

Thank you, ladies, for never letting me down.  Thank you for sharing your courage with me.  Thank you for your beautiful, generous spirits. I promise to give each and every one of you more time and attention, and I vow to stand by you in times of need. I cherish each and every one of you.

To Sarah--see ya again soon, and then maybe we can make up for lost time.

Shamrock born, Shamrock bred.