There was a time I loved to sweat.
I didn’t mind the summer heat. I loved the way it radiated off the outdoor asphalt basketball courts. I let it envelop me.
I paid no mind to my sliding pads and the polyester uniforms. My mitt was always a little damp and my batting gloves were salty. Sweat was part of life on the diamond.
I played hard and I sweat buckets.
I competed. I hustled. I won.
Girls who didn’t break a sweat didn’t care. They had no talent for the game. No drive to run faster, shoot farther, or pitch longer. They sat out innings, warmed the bench for whole quarters.
Even though sweat was a badge of my game, I was never self-conscious about it. I didn’t need a towel. I didn’t change my clothes. I never worried that the drips down my face made me less pretty.
Of course, I was 13.
As I got older, I sweat less. On purpose. I stopped playing sports to concentrate on band. Not sweating in band is about as tough as not sweating during a summer basketball game. But I tried. Move less, wear less, keep your cool.
Hardly “no sweat.”
Slow down. No hustle. Stay calm.
For years – I suppose a majority of my life, really – I tried to avoid sweat, tried to stay dry.
Sometime in the last 2 years, I realized that I missed sweating. I missed the push push push. In learning how to not sweat, I forgot how to achieve.
I had tempered my drive. I had pulled back on the throttle.
I want to let it all loose.
I want to drip.
I’ve learned to sweat again – both physically & mentally. I’ve learned to embrace my desire to break free into a sprint. I’ve learned to stop holding back, let my pulse rush, and dive into the deep end.
I’m not here to sit on the sidelines. I’m here to play.
When was the last time you sweat?