Day 7

Walking down the hall one day on the way to class he noticed a cluster of girls. Their giggling and chatter reminded him of chickens in a barnyard.  Stephanie joined the group and the whole atmosphere changed. Her mom went into the hospital the night before and she was crying. Soon a few other girls were crying with her.  They encircled her with a group hug of six or seven. Tears were dried. A forced smile came. Then a real smile and then the chicken fest started again.

At the news of Stephanie’s mom, Brian could feel his stomach tighten. “Buck up, shut up, get the job done” he told himself. For a moment he envied a woman’s ability to share emotional pain and get some sort of comfort from the group. It’s been three months since mom died and things were moving forward. Sometimes dad was more distance than normal. Sometimes there was a sob or a few tears. A fist was slammed on a counter, table or wall and composure was regained. The simplified life and focus on school and wrestling made his life bearable.

As he continued to class he had a dialog with himself. “Why does my life have to be ‘bearable’? What do you expect it to be? Your mom just died. Iife and death are a fact of life. Why do I feel this way? It’s not really pain. Why is it always so cloudy? Why don’t I feel pain? Just a discomfort I can’t put my finger on. Like spending all day in a suit that doesn’t quite fit. There are times when you don’t notice it then you move or shift your weight and the vague discomfort comes back. Stephanie’s pain triggered my pain. I don’t like that. I’m not used to that. I don’t want that.”

Outside the classroom were a few of his buddies.

Dude

What’s up?

Not much

Doing ok?

Yeah.

I’m lookin’ forward to practice

Sure beats class.

They all walked in and sat down. Brian smiled at the contrast between the support he got from his friends compared to Stephanie’s. Granted her tragedy happened this morning and his was three months ago. But they had the same conversation on the Monday after her death.

His daily routine was robotic. Rise at 5, yoga, eat, weight training, bike to school. Classes. Practice. Bike home. Homework, as efficiently as possible. Dinner. More exercise, mostly drills. Shower and in bed by 8. Nine solid hours of sleep was the goal to achieve maximum performance.  He darkened his room, removed all sources of blue light, and was fanatical about going to bed at the same time every night.  His progress was great, he was feeling wonderful and proud of his progress.   But every so often he couldn’t maintain focus. He had to use every ounce of mind trickery to pull himself through the day.  His dad took him to the doc to see if there was anything seriously wrong.  Doc said no.  He wasn’t satisfied.  He had already done 2 competitions and done well. But the last bout of the last fight, he felt too evenly matched.  So, he went to another doctor, in a bigger city that specialized in sports medicine.  He ran many of the same tests. Before giving him the results of the tests he asked him questions about his lifestyle, training patterns, sleep and diet. Then he talked about his friends, girlfriends (or lack of them) and his family life. Brian didn’t want to talk about that stuff.  Am I ok or not doc?   He was tensing up and getting a little hostile.  Dr. Bennett was used to dealing with athletes and maintained control of the interview.  They discussed his mom’s death.

How do you feel about your mom’s death?

What do you mean how do I feel. I feel awful. I miss her. A lip started to quiver.

Do you feel guilty about her death? Do you feel that if you had been there she wouldn’t have died?

What the hell? How could I have stopped it. I’m not superman. I couldn’t have covered her with my bullet proof cape or shielded her with my impenetrable body.  Besides, I was at school.

Do you blame your dad? Should he have been with her?

He’s not superman either. If dad were there I would be an orphan. The blast killed her and everyone in the bakery.

What day of the week did it happen?

Friday.  That’s the only day she went to the bakery.

Do you have a girlfriend?

No.

Do you like girls?

Are you asking if I’m gay?

No. Just if you like girls.

Yes, I do.

Are there any you like?

Yes, a couple.

Why don’t you go out with them?

I want to take state and secure my future.

When do you feel the weakest?

Usually at the end of the week.

Friday?

Almost always Friday.

What are you willing to do to get better?

What?

What sacrifices or changes are you willing to commit your heart and soul to so that you can stop having these debilitating episodes?

What’s wrong with me?  That sounds serious!

Top performers are serious. You haven’t answered the question.

He looked at the floor. His eyes darted from side to side. Drugs? Surgery? Piles of hundred dollar bills were stacking up in head.

What do I have to do?

You’re wasting my time. Are you committed or not?

The doctor got up to leave.

He did a quick check of life after winning versus life after quitting. He chose winning.

I’ll do it. I’ll commit to whatever you want me to do.

Good. Let’s go into my office where we can be more comfortable.  Bring your father.

Dad could see that Brian was shaken.

What’s up sport?

He wanted me to commit to doing whatever he tells me to do before he’d tell me what’s wrong with me.  He wants me in his office to go over the changes. And he wants you there.

His dad smiled and chuckled just a bit.  You’re still a minor which is why he wants me there. He probably has also seen a hundred starstruck athlete-wannabes and watch them bail on the necessary. Let’s go.

Dr. Bennett motioned them to a small table with a fake wooden Formica top.  Instead of sitting across from them, he sat between them so they could both see the material.

First the nutrition, you have just some minor tweaks to make. A few foods to substitute and you’ll be good.

Based on what you told me about your training style and effort I think you need to add another hour of sleep.

Now here’s the big one. You need to get out and talk to people, especially women.  I could recommend a psychiatrist or counselor if you want to double check my findings. It’s pretty clear to me that you still have some unresolved emotional pain from your mom’s death.  Instead of dealing with it you’re either suppressing it, throttling it or ignoring it. You’re not letting the wound heal up.  The fact that your mom died on Friday and you typically have these episodes on Friday suggests that you subconsciously dread the day and don’t want to face it. Fortunately, your rigorous schedule and years of loving the sport is moving you forward. Some boys your age, just quit they never recover.  You probably would have handled the death of your father better. Boys have a very tight attachment to their mothers as do girls to their dads.

But I don’t have time for a girlfriend. I need to train.

You said you would do what ever it takes! But I’m not telling you to go get laid. I’m telling you to talk to and develop relationships with women. Females of all ages not just your age group.  If you come across someone who’s hurting too, express your sympathy.  You don’t have to be poetic, just honest. “Yeah, I know it sucks.” or “I’m sorry you’re hurting.” is all it will take.  If you happen to lose your composure in front of one of them. Just regain your composure and laugh it off. Don’t let yourself think you’re less of a man because of your emotions.

Dan, I you’re probably also suffering from similar issues but because your not pushing yourself as hard physically as Brian does you don’t notice the difference. You may be chalk it up to getting older.  Get out and talk to some people.

If you belong to a church get involved in youth group, choir or any group activity they have.  So neither of you feel like you’re hunting for a female try to stick to group outings. In terms of your training schedule dedicate Saturday from 4 to bedtime and Sunday morning through lunch as your social therapy.

If you stick with the commitment you should notice a change in a month.

Dan and Brian left the building dumb-founded. They walked in total silence, slowly, like someone on the way to their sentencing or a root canal.

Before getting in the car, dad looked over the top of the car and said, “I feel like I was tricked into going to the principal’s office and got in trouble for something you did!”.

Brian said, “I’m not telling anyone that the doctor said I had to go talk to girls.”

Halfway home, they pulled off the road into an old diner. They went in and orderrf some food. As the waitress was about to walk away Brian spoke.

Excuse me, what is your name?

Wendy.

Thanks Wendy, could I get extra tomatoes on my burger.

Sure hon.

Dad, smiled. Under his breath, he said, “Are you practicing?”

Dad, I really, want to win. I said I would do whatever.

Not to be out done, “Wendy, I’m sorry to call you back again but could I get a cup of coffee now and a Coke with my Hamburger?”

Sure hon.

By the time semi-finals rolled around, both men were feeling better. They still had bouts of tears. In general, the clouds began to part and the weather seemed to improve.  On one particular sunny day in January, Brian was standing next to Stephanie and commented on what a beautiful day it was. Finally after so

many weeks of clouds and gloom.

What are you talking about. It’s been the warmest fall in years.

No it hasn’t!

Yes it has.  She pulled out her phone and read him the data. Of the last 120 days, only 15 have been overcast, and we’ve had 4 days of rain.

Brian felt a little disoriented. The doctor must have been right. His gut had changed the way he saw something as big and obviouis as the weather.

Stephanie started to make a sarcastic comment then she saw his face.  She grabbed him around the waist, he was much taller, and gave him the hardest hug she could. Then she playfully slapped him in the face and said, “I’m sorry. It will get better.” Slapped his arm, smiled and walked away.

The sky was indeed very blue today.  He smiled.