A Letter To My Daughter
“Courage doesn’t always roar, sometimes it’s the quiet voice at the end of the day whispering, ‘I will try again tomorrow.” -Mary Anne Radmacher
Dear Arielle,
Yesterday when you told me you didn’t make the team my heart broke for you. I knew it was your dream. I’ve watched as year after year you practiced twice a day putting your training before all else. I knew the lessons you were learning through dedication to your sport were life lessons few got the opportunity to learn, but I also knew that life lessons were not what you were after; PR’s were what mattered.
Over the years listening to your disappointment after marathons and track meets were heart wrenching. I wanted so desperately for you to have at least one victory. You were practicing every day and improving yet still you were upset with your performance. I reminded you that you were with the fastest women in the world. You’d come so far from the high school student who had to race alone against her own time on a track. All I could be was a whisper in your ear. This was your journey, and I was on the sidelines watching, hoping, not for a gold medal, but for you to see your improvement and be proud of yourself.
Your hands bled, your legs spasmed, you woke six days a week before dawn to push over twenty miles, went to class, and then returned to practice for your second workout. I was in awe knowing few would ever tackle such a schedule.
Then when you told me you didn’t want me to let people know about the 1500m race on NBC because you knew you’d be last, I felt gut wrenching pain. I almost didn’t leave the decision up to you. I’ve been so incredibly proud of you for putting your heart into wheelchair racing and not giving up! Not many people would’ve had your courage to keep going, keep trying, for years! I couldn’t have you feeling like a failure after all your hard work.
Thank goodness you changed your mind and let us both shout-out to the world that you and all your teammates were competing to represent the United States in the Paralympics. I was overwhelmed with joy at the response from people before and after the race. The support was amazing! I felt as though I wasn’t alone in telling you to be proud of how far you’d come and I think you could finally see that it wasn’t just me being your mom it was the belief of everyone that despite what place you came in when you crossed the finish line the simple fact that you were there, you didn’t give up, had everyone cheering for you.
When we talked after the U.S. team announcement was made and your name wasn’t on the list, I thought I’d hear sadness. I thought I’d hear that maybe you were done racing. Instead, I heard a peaceful, mature, young woman telling me that she knew she had more work to do. She looked forward to her next race, and she was proud of all her Illini teammates that would represent the United States in Rio. In that moment you became my teacher showing me what it meant to have the heart of an athlete pushing through whatever life brings with the strength of a spirit that shines through the darkness. Always. You are my light. My joy. My amazing daughter!
I love you,
Mom
