09/05/2018
Three years ago today, I shot my last outdoor tournament. It was the Olympic Trials for Rio and I didn't come close to making the cut, but it's the tournament I'm most proud of because it was the one I fought the hardest to finish and to be honest I almost didn't.
A smile can hide a lot, especially when you're living with an invisible illness. I love this picture of good friends that have become family, but it's also a reminder. That day I had a raging migraine, walking distances was hard and my dad was my arrow agent. I was just responsible for getting from the shooting line to the tents, and that was a challenge, but I wasn't giving up. I was going to finish this tournament. It was when I was at full draw and I lost vision. IT WAS TERRIFYING. Thankfully it was towards the end of the tournament, but that was turning point and realization that something REALLY needed to change with my health, and I needed to be the one to take ownership in finding the answers.
But I finished. When we were done, I hugged my high school coach, Lori Cieslinskiwho has become so much more than that. She's my mentor, friend and practically big sister. She made the cut (because shes superwoman) and I was so happy for her. It was during that bear hug she said "Holly, it's ok." The waterworks started, and boy, did I cry. Not because of how badly I did (and yes it was bad for me, especially considering I had ended in the top 6 for the London Olympic Trials the cycle before), but I was crying because we somehow knew that it was the end of a chapter for me.
It took me TWO YEARS since that tournament to find out that on top of having Dysautonomia and Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, which causes passing out and dysfunction of the Autonomic nervous system, I also have Thoracic Outlet Syndrome. Compressing my arteries when I turn my head or raise my arms, cutting off blood flow to my arms and brain, and it's the culprit of my vision loss now whenever I raise my arms not just during archery, doing makeup, doing my hair (hello short hair!). But that event also spurred me into doing serious research on service dogs and now I've got Nissu.
Last week, I was talking to a student who was disappointed in how they did at a tournament. They were beating themselves up, saying they should have done better, and we always want to aspire to do more. But we don't compete for the medal, we compete for the memories, the love of it, for wanting to be more. It may be a clique for me to say that it's not always how you place, those rankings don't show how much of your heart you put on the line. Competing is about doing what you love, with the people you enjoy, the family the sport has given you. It's celebrating the success of your friends and morning the losses you fought so hard to get through.
My favorite quote is by Mia Hamm. "Somewhere behind the athlete you've become and the hours of practice and the coaches who have pushed you is a little girl who fell in love with the game and never looked back... play for her."
I feel so blessed to still be involved in the sport that I love. Surrounded by my archery family with my service dog sidekick by my side. When I see my friends, competitors, and students there on the shooting line. My heart is on the shooting line up there with you, but I wish more than anything that you shoot for YOU because you LOVE the game.
