Disappear in the D

This post came out of nowhere. I decided a couple weeks ago that I was fed up with the polar vortex sub-zero temperatures and blizzards stopping me from hitting golf balls and hindering me from my weight-vested runs. So I grabbed every piece of Under Armour I own, pulled the old running shoes out before the WOD, and this topic came to mind. Maybe it was the time by myself on my run, maybe it was hearing nothing but my music, or maybe it was just because I was practically frozen at the end of it, but here goes nothing…

Disappearance.  To just be able to slip away, sneak off somewhere, to get rid of all the stress, all the obligations, the responsibilities, the to-do lists, the early alarms, the late working nights, the worries, the anxieties, the doubts, the harshness of reality, all of it, and to just disappear – seems so nice on some days.  In a way, Detroit disappeared for a while, sunk into its own demise of bankruptcy, blight, and the like. But slowly the city is coming out of those shadows… but yet, only after disappearing. So here I am again, relating this topic of disappearance to Detroit and, of course, all of my other usual topics that are important to me.

We live in moments where change is so speeded up that we begin to see the present only when it is already disappearing.

The year before I began law school I decided to put together quite a lengthy photo album of Detroit. It essentially highlighted the good and bad parts of the city. The section of the book that shows the rougher areas illustrates how easy it is to disappear in a city such as ours. Our “urban wasteland” feel makes it simple to sneak away, to slip through the cracks and not be seen; and yet, those were the sections I thought gave our city the most character. What potential hides within those graffiti-filled alleyways, those abandoned buildings? What used to be of those now empty businesses, the homes left to ruin? What stories are left untold, the stories that disappeared with the fall of once-vibrant Detroit? Everyone has their own “story” in life, just like Detroit. You can pick any person out of a crowd and I guarantee they have one to tell. So that idea made me think, what was Detroit’s? But over time, those stories can disappear too, only the memories of which remain, and even those can fade over time as well.

Light in a Dark City is what I titled the book I compiled. Why? Because, when I had decided to create the album, this idea of “light” in the city that you can so easily disappear in was what I searched for, and still search for, in Detroit. So if you find yourself wanting to disappear, take a moment and find glimmers of light in your life, no matter how small, for things may seem less dark than what they originally appeared. Then you can realize that disappearing is not the path to choose. And hopefully Detroit steers clear of that path as well, redefining its strength as a city from its past disappearance.

With every setback comes a chance to come back and rise - a chance to hold nothing back.

We have now officially begun the 2014 Crossfit Open, scores for 14.1 already to be submitted this evening. I imagine that people who are new to this are excited and nervous for their first experience doing the Open. Those who have put endless amounts of time, effort, dedication, and hard work over the past year are anticipating the release of the WODs, and the chance to prove they have what it takes to really make a statement this year. And me, well, I have to admit that some days, the thought of it makes me want to disappear. I’ve tried to say to myself “its just a workout” or “you’re not built like those other girls” or “you fill your life with too much else as it is, ” but in reality, I look at those as excuses. I hate feeling like a failure, feeling inadequate at things, no matter what it is. I hate hearing the excuses of how I’m smaller or I’m still injured or I have a lot going on or whatever else. So at those times, I want to disappear.

I’ve never been that way though. And so I keep at it, trying everyday to push those excuses and those negative voices in my head aside, improve as best I can, just like everyone else, and have fun with it. And not disappear. Why do I do the Open? I’m no Regionals-level athlete, the girls these days could probably one-arm snatch my gangly self. I do it for my Tribe, for Spartan. I do it in that chance that I can help our team. 7 min of max strict muscle-ups? Mmm, no, doubtful. Kettlebell run for time? Absolutely not. But a girl can dream. The Open is a chance to prove to yourself what you can do, how hard you can push yourself, and how far you’ve come. It isn’t a time to hide away, to act invisible, as I’m guilty of doing before. It’s a chance to attack the WODs each week like it’s the last thing you will ever do. So I wish everyone the best of luck. Embrace the pain, and cherish the support that comes with it, because nothing is better than the atmosphere of Open WOD Sundays at Spartan. And don’t go disappearing. Believe that you’ll be better than you were yesterday, and not as good as you will be tomorrow. And I’ll try to do the same.

“You’ve got a choice. You can stop, or you can start - walking right back to where you’ve always been, stand there still, and remember. It was just a moment ago. Time for you to come out of the shadows, time for you to choose. But you ain’t alone, I’m right here with ya. Now play the game, your game, the one that only you were meant to play, the one that was given to you when you came into this world.”

That quote is from one of my all-time favorite movies, The Legend of Bagger Vance, and I could watch that every night on repeat. Disappearing doesn’t always have to be a negative thing. Golf. My game that can’t be won, only played. When I go to the driving range, I go to disappear from the world for an hour, for two hours, for 5 hours, for however long I’m able to be there for. For that length of time, everything else goes away. This sport has always been the one thing that could truly block out everything else going on in my life. Peacefulness amidst constant chaos. Freedom. This game to me is a gift.

If you don’t have a passion for golf it’s difficult to explain what it’s like to be on the starting hole at a tournament, to have your name announced as you approach the tee. Even now, as my name and where I’m from is said, “next on the tee from Detroit, Michigan..” and spectators clap, then the world all of a sudden goes silent and all you see is the fairway ahead of you. I’m a different person in competition than in anything else I do in my life. Some have said when they play their best rounds its similar to sleep-walking while being awake; you’re relaxed, in a trance of some sort, yet full of adrenaline. It’s things like this that make the game so difficult to truly explain. And this is just one of the many reasons why I’ll never be able to give it up. And why I continue to use it as my chance to disappear. And you know what, even when I’m in the hell known as Bar Exam prep, you can still expect to find me disappearing at the range and still playing in my USGA tournaments. And, with that, I’ll cut off my golf nerd talk for now. But seriously everyone, it’s the greatest game there is.

I will never disappear, for forever I’ll be here, whispering,

Morning keep the streets empty for me.

Down by 5. Less than 30 seconds to go in the 4^th quarter. The #3 ranked team in the state playing the #1 ranked team in the state. Mercy makes the greatest comeback I’ve ever seen in basketball to win the Catholic League Championship by 1 at the buzzer. “Never give up.”

As I’ve written before, this is my 4^th year coaching at Mercy. And with this is another chance to disappear. How, may you ask, can a COACH disappear?? Seems a bit like a poor method to be a part of a team.. Well, I disappear in the sense that no one ever knows what part of the state I’m in!  Oh I’m in Lansing, then I’m in Farmington Hills, then I’m in Ann Arbor, then I’m in Flint. People just never know where to find me. To most, if not all, the nearly 500 miles I drive each week while in-season sounds absurd. And, I’ll admit that, ok yes, it is. But it has been more than worth it. The girls I coached at each of the three levels, Freshmen, JV, and Varsity, their supportive families, the outstanding coaching staff and Mercy’s top notch athletic department make it all worth it. Hitting the road to drive to the girls’ practices and games is a “disappearing” I embrace each time. I received a message from one of the parents this year that epitomized why I do this – that her daughter always says to her that she wants to play her best in every game so she can make me proud. Coaches live to hear things like this. Our Mercy basketball family is truly something special. I was proud of being a part of it during high school, and even prouder now as one of the coaches. And as we continue our journey to the state championship, I’ll continue to disappear on the road, only to get to the games and watch the girls do everything but disappear – to show that, you know what, we are the best.

That question, so sad, recurring – what good amid these, oh me, oh life?

That you are here – that life exists and identity,

That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

I thought that this excerpt from Walt Whitman’s poem was a fitting quote to end with – that in life, we all have the ability to make our own impacts, both on our own life experiences and also in the lives of others, to use his words, “contribute a verse.” If you disappear, as I’ve written about today, then those opportunities disappear along with you. Whether you like it or not, life will continue to go on. You never know what positive effects you can have on others, how much even the smallest of acts can touch someone else’s day, week, year, or even entire life. So to everyone reading yet another one of my rants, embrace all the twists and turns life has to offer, don’t chose the path of disappearance. Live passionately, and not in the shadows. And take a trip down to my city sometime to see how it’s beginning to re-emerge as well. Keep on hustlin’ harder, Detroiters.