Inspiration in the WWC

Brandi Chastain ripping off her jersey to celebrate World Cup victory(Atkins/AP)

Oh, soccer.  I'll never forget Brandi Chastain's infamous sports bra moment post-1999 World Cup championship.  Who could forget such a moment?  Soccer fan or not, male, female, young, old -  no descriptors matter in a moment like that. Joy, happiness, raw emotion.  Watching this year's world cup, I wonder if such a thing will happen again.

As I sit with the third place game about to begin, watching Heather O'Reilly and Megan Rapinoe talking about what's happening tomorrow, I can't help but miss it.  Training videos remind me of drills, weight room reels remind me of strength, and the games remind me of the competitive flame that used to burn.  I'm not ready, at 24, to be a "has been."  I'm not saying I have aspirations of the national team, or even winning any sort of competition.  I have aspirations of competing, and being proud of what I do.  I could probably roll out of bed and race a 5k - it would be painful and ugly, but, without a doubt, I could do it.  I could do a sprint triathlon, I could (and am) doing a cable swim race in a few weeks.  Do I expect to finish my race and be happy with what I did - no, not in the least.  I've lowered, or abolished my expectations.  What kind of athlete has no expectations?

The glory days.

Expectations, in an of themselves, are a funny thing.  "What do you expect?"  As someone who wants to win, do her best, and come out on top, expectations are merely mundane.  It's about what you strive for, wish for, and dream about.  Yes, a dose of realism is always needed.  Never would I, when I was swimming competitively, aim for a time that was out of my reach.  I would, though, know I could go faster than anyone else thought I could.  That is, so much of the training is physical, but when it comes down to race time, the heart and mind kick in and you can do more.  This is what upsets are all about; the story of the underdog that we so embrace as a culture is about taking expectations and throwing them into the dirt and riding through on dreams.

So what does this all mean for me?  Good question.  I want to do it all again, but that's hard.  It's especially hard because I've always been able.  Yes, I had to work hard to be successful in athletics.  Shooting 100 free throws a day, spending hours upon hours getting touches on the soccer ball, doing strengthening exercises on my bedroom floor, reading book after book on mental preparation and technique.  I worked.  I was also 12.  The work paid off, and I was successful in athletics through high school, garnering multiple league and district honors and winning 12 varsity letters.  Sure, I had injuries, but they didn't keep me down: Banged up knees, concussions, sprained backs, sore shoulders, broken ribs, turf toe...the list goes on.  I sat out a half, modified practices, changed my races, and got back into it.  I actually started all 80+ soccer games of my high school career, minus the one I sat out due to an errant red card.  That's a whole different story.

Now, I'm at the bottom.  I've got to get to the top. One foam roll at a time. The top now isn't the top of the league standings or the top of the podium, rather, it's the top of the rankings in my own mind.  It's the top of myself.