No Substitute for Preparation

Well guys, it's a month until my season starts (can hardly wait). I've been working so hard for so long to prepare for my return to the court this season after my injury. And sometimes, honestly, I get tired. I get tired of all the preparation minus the stage to perform on. I think we all get frustrated sometimes when we work without seeing the rewards. But my time is coming, just like it is for everyone else that has willingly and diligently put in the work toward their goals. So I wanted to share with you all something that my coach shared with me back in college. I don't know where he got it, but one day we walked into the locker room and we each had a copy in our lockers. It illustrates both sides of being a competitor; the most powerful and the most helpless feeling in sports (and in life also). Reminders like this are what help keep me going when I'm tired. I hope you like it too.


Throughout the Tour de France, a Columbian rider on the Kelme-Costa Blace Team, Santiago Botero, has been keeping a diary for the newspaper. Each day the newspaper publishes his diary from the previous day. Unfortunately, the only diary entry I have seen appeared in this past Sunday's edition. However, it was worth the read.

"There I am all alone with my bike. I know of only two riders ahead of me as I near the end of the second climb on what most riders consider the third worst mountain stage on the Tour. I say 'most riders' because I do not fear mountains. After all, our country is nothing but mountains. I train year-round in the mountains. I am the national champion from a country that is nothing but mountains. I trail only my teammate, Fernando Escartin, and a Swiss rider. Pantani, one of my rival climbers, and the Gringo Armstrong are in the Peleton about five minutes behind me. I am climbing on such a steep portion of the mountain that if I were to stop pedaling, I would fall backward. Even for a world class climber, this is a painful and slow process. I am in my upright position pedaling at a steady pace willing myself to finish this climb so I can conserve my energy for the final climb of the day. The Kelme team leader radios to me that the Gringo has left the Peleton by himself and that they can no longer see him.

I recall thinking 'the Gringo cannot catch me by himself'. A short while later, I hear the gears of another bicycle. Within seconds, the Gringo is next to me - riding in the seated position, smiling at me. He was only next to me for a few seconds and he said nothing - he only smiled and then proceeded up the mountain as if he were pedaling downhill. For the next several minutes I could only think of one thing - his smile. His smile told me everything. I kept thinking that surely he was in as much agony as me, perhaps he was standing and struggling up the mountain as I was and he only say down to pass me and discourage me. He has to be playing games with me. Not possible. The truth is that his smile said everything that his lips did not. His smile said to me, 'I was training while you were sleeping, Santiago'. It also said, 'I won this tour four months ago, while you were deciding what bike frame to use on the Tour. I trained harder than you did, Santiago. I don't know if I am better than you, but I have outworked you and right now, you cannot do anything about it. Enjoy your ride, Santiago. See you in Paris'.

Obviously, the Gringo did not state any of this. But his smile did dispel a bad rumor among the riders on the tour. The rumor that surfaced as we began the Prologue several days ago told us that the Gringo had gotten soft. His wife had just given birth to his first child and he had won the most difficult race in the world - he had no desire to race, to win. I imagine that his smile turned to laughter once he was far enough not to embarrass me. The Gringo has class, but he had heard the rumors - he probably laughed all the way to Paris. He is a great champion and I must train harder. I am not content to be a great climber. I want to be the best.

I learned much from the Gringo in the mountains, I will never forget the helpless feeling I had yesterday. If I ever become an international champion, I will always remember the lesson the Gringo taught me."

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The choice between sports and sex appeal

The other day I was going through pictures trying to decide which ones to use for my website. I came across a picture of me in a bathing suit from a photo shoot I did not too long ago. It was a good picture and I wanted to use it, but I was hesitant. Was it too revealing? Was it unprofessional? Could I post that picture and still be considered a role model? My uncertainty about a simple picture got me thinking about a much bigger issue: Can a woman realistically expect be seen as a great athlete AND a sex symbol?

To begin researching my question, I Googled "female athletes posing nude." The results included a variety of articles debating whether or not female athletes posing for sexy photo shoots marginalized everything else she did on her respective playing field. Some called it insulting, saying that these women are discounting the other qualities that make them great athletes. Others argue that women are posing in overly sexual ways to compensate for homophobia and the masculine aspects of playing sports. While still others point out that these women have worked hard for their bodies, so why not show them off and gain recognition for their hard work.

So what's my take on it? Well, as usual, I have a few things to say, so here goes...

First, I don't understand why posing for sexy pictures automatically means we are denying the toughness and strength it takes to be an elite athlete. To me it means that we want people to see us in totality, as multi-dimensional women who are not afraid to embrace all sides of ourselves. The coolest thing about the evolution of the modern day woman is that we have the ability to be so many things at once: career women, wives, mothers, etc. So it seems unfair to limit a female athlete by putting her in a box pre-determined by her sport. If it would be wrong for people to see us as just a sex symbol, is it any less wrong for them to see us as just an athlete? Either way, it's only a portion of who we are as women.

Second, some say we want to be photographed in sexy and ultra-feminine ways so people won't think we're gay just because we play sports. But what if it's instead to show people how we look the other 80% of the time when we're not playing? I wear short dresses out to the club and bikinis on the beach; it's not out of the norm for me, or many other female athletes. So I look at such photo shoots as a way to represent something we are, rather than to "prove" something we're not. Plus, these days there are lots of beautiful femme chicks that like women, so it really doesn't prove anything anyway.

Another argument is that using sexual images to get publicity sets women's causes back hundreds of years by cheapening everything else we do in sports. I understand that women have had to struggle (and still struggle) to earn respect for women's athletics. And true, taking your clothes off is the easiest and quickest way to get some cheap attention. But this very blog is evidence that there are other ways to draw attention to women's sports and issues. Kara Lawson is another player representing women's athletics through a different medium: broadcasting. Yes, stripping down to a bathing suit is easier, but it is far from the only way. Why can't we be athletic enough to play at the highest level, smart enough to write about important issues, articulate enough to be a sports broadcaster, AND hot enough to pose for a men's magazine? Call me ambitious, but I think we can do it all.

As females we are judged by our looks anyway. We are commented about and ridiculed if we don't meet other people's standards of physical attractiveness. So if our looks can work against us, we should have the option of allowing them to work for us too - without being looked at as a traitor to our gender or our sport. Also, societies' definition of beauty is dangerously narrow, often convincing young women that they must be stick skinny and always "put together" to be attractive. In my opinion, it's a great thing that men's magazines are stepping away from the stick skinny models and not only featuring curvier women like Beyonce and Kim Kardashian, but also tall, lean, muscular women like the Team USA Olympians that did the cover shoot for FHM in 2004. As long as the pictures are classy and not raunchy, I don't have a problem with it at all.

Thoughts anyone? For the women, how do you feel about female athletes posing for sexy pictures? And men, while you may not mind it, would you look at her as less of a "serious athlete" for doing so?

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Welcoming myself to the world of video blogging =)

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My Love/Hate Relationship With Basketball

I was in the gym the other day killing myself during a workout, and for a moment I wondered, "why in the world am I dong all this?" Well, I know why I'm doing it, but it got me thinking about everything, good and bad, we athletes experience outside the 40 minutes of game time. So here it goes: a snapshot of my love/hate relationship with basketball.

I love to win. I hate to lose more.

I hate running to get in shape...when it feels like there's no more air left in the world, and feeling that tingling in my legs right before they want to give out. I love running out on the break...those three quick, powerful steps that get me going. Not straight down the middle, but that subtle arch out to the wing like the guards do, striding out and looking for the ball over my inside shoulder; catch, gather, finish.

I hate stereotypes...we've all heard them. Female athletes are: unattractive, masculine, not real athletes, gay, unintelligent, too big and tall, blah blah blah. I love proving them wrong...yes I love make-up, have a sick hook shot, look damn good in a dress, and I see the way you look at me when I walk across the room; and it's not just because I'm 6'9" in these stilettos. No we can't talk because my man is right over there. And by the way, I have a degree from Vandy. ;-)

I hate playing with people I really don't like...seeing them all the time in a relatively intimate setting (the locker room), and no matter what they do to get on my nerves, or how much they talk behind my back, I can't let that affect my basketball judgment. I love professionalism...knowing that I can work with anyone no matter what.

I love playing with people I do like...developing friendships through traveling, laughing, and working together, and how nothing can ever erase the bond formed by fighting with and for each other everyday. I hate the season's end...going our separate ways and rarely getting to see each other throughout the year.

I hate trades...leaving the known for the unknown. Hugging my friends goodbye with the knowledge that no matter how much we care about each other, and how much we want it to stay the same, it never will be, because nothing takes the place of playing together. Or having to pack my stuff, and try to fit my life for the next 6 months into two bags and a carry-on. I love a new start...the sense of adventure, and the chance to define a new role given a different set of circumstances.

I love the spotlight...the ability to influence people (especially young women) with my words and actions, and having a platform to speak my mind where people actually care about what I say. I hate living life in public...how everyone knows when I'm having a bad day, they all want something, and there is rarely a shortage of opinions about what I say, do, wear, or anything else.

I hate how getting out of bed pain free during the season is a fantasy. I love that 2 hours later I can sprint up and down the court and hit people.

I hate lifting weights...when I'm already tired from practice but have to lift anyway, and my muscles are screaming at me to just stop and sit down, but I can't because it takes more energy to sit and get up than it does to just stand there. And how lifting is the epitome of delayed gratification. I love lifting weights...because if I don't lift I spend half the game on the floor, and it's a great feeling pushing people around in the paint. Or when I can buy a tiny bikini because everything isn't jiggling everywhere, and feeling strong and powerful but also slim and sexy at the same time (ok so the reasons I like weights are vain, but hey, whatever gets you through the workout!).

I love traveling all over the world and staying in the best hotels. I hate being away from my family and friends for months at a time.

I hate getting to that point of fatigue where you're trying with everything in you to do something but your body physically won't go there. I love knowing that that point gets farther away with every workout.

I HATE injuries...when I'm used to my body being able to do almost anything and then all the sudden being unable to do the simplest things. Watching others play when I physically can't, and having to convince my mind to get out there and try again without fear. I LOVE knowing that with God's help I can get through anything. Coming back from a broken kneecap, a torn Achilles, and a torn ACL in the span of 2 1/2 years, to still play at the highest level of competition. And the ability to fight through and eventually embody the meaning of perseverance.

I love camaraderie, being part of something bigger than myself, competition, and the parallels between life and sport.

I love the intensity, loyalty, inspiring and being inspired, meeting challenges, and losing myself in the moment.

Most of all, I love that no matter how much of the daily stuff I hate, there are moments that are so powerful, they without question, make everything worth it.

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Top 10 worst pick-up lines I hear on a regular basis

10. I'd love to climb that tree...

9. Baby you real cute for a tall girl.

8. You need a groupie?

7. I looooove tall women. Am I too short for you? (coming from a guy who's 5'6" in Timbs)

6. Can I be your boy toy?

5. Girl come over here and post me up.

4. Damn girl...those legs could wrap around me twice!

3. Can I just be your man on the side? You can call me when your BF ain't actin right.

2. Now you know you a tall drink of water, and I'm thirsty!

1. Hey girl come'er. Lemme take you 1 on 1.

LOL

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