Beyond the Game: Harnessing Your Competitive Edge for Life

by Val Jones, Former Competitive Figure Skater

The room is so very bland.  That icky not-quite-beige, not-quite-white color.  My heart is racing. Tiny beads of sweat are starting to form on my forehead.  I can’t sit still, my legs bouncing in nervous anticipation. The doctor walks in, his face as bland as the walls.  I try to make a read on what’s coming next, but can’t. File folder in hand, he sits down. 

“Well, it is not good news.  Your MRI shows a full thickness tear in your meniscus.  I think we can fix it, but it would be my recommendation that you never skate again.” 

Wait, what?!  What did he just say?  Never skate again? Did I mishear him?  NO NO NO. My heart is now pounding out of my chest.  I’m sure he can hear it. The sweat is dripping down the side of my face.  My legs have stilled. I feel like I have a weight on my chest. The tears are welling up in my eyes.  He continues on, something about walking when I’m 35 and something about limited range of motion. He sounds like the teacher on The Peanuts to me.  Whaa waaa wha whaaa whaaa. I can’t make any sense of what he’s saying. The tears are now flowing freely. He says, “I’ll give you a minute.” A minute?  You just told me my life is over and that EVERYTHING I have done for the last 13 years is over? And all I get is a minute? You’ve got to be kidding me.  

Being a competitor isn’t what I do, it is who I am.  Being a competitor is who I’ve always been. It’s who I’ll always be.  And I’m not sure if it’s nature or nurture, or maybe a little bit of both.  I knew the first time I put my skates on and stepped out onto the ice that this is what I was meant to do.  I was willing to put in the hard work and make the sacrifices. I loved the training. I could almost see my Olympic dream.  

Have you been there too?  It doesn’t matter what sport you play.  If your athletic career has ended abruptly by an injury, we are bonded in a very unique way.  In a sense, we belong to a club that none of us ever intended on being in. Yet, here we are.  

When everything you’ve done and sacrificed for comes to a sudden halt

I thought initially that since my skating career was over, my competitiveness was over too.  I was wrong. Remember, being a competitor isn’t WHAT I do, it is WHO I am.  And in the 30 years since I’ve retired from competitive skating, I have utilized my competitive spirit over and over again.  I’ve also learned to continue to employ the things skating taught me about persistence, perseverance, goal-setting, and getting back up when you fall.  

If you are like me, I’d bet that you identify with your sport as who you are.  I was a skater. That was my identity. I had to somehow break that thought pattern, because I could no longer skate.  I eventually switched to referring to myself as an “athlete.” I am almost 50 years old, and yes, I’m still an athlete.  I eat like an athlete. I train like an athlete. I rest and recover like an athlete. I think like an athlete. Why? Because I’m an athlete at life.  Life is a marathon not a sprint. And I have found many, many things that require me to be physical. I often joke that I’m “training to not suck at life.”

The first part of “healing” is navigating through receiving the news and stepping into a life that you had not planned on nor prepared for.  

• Take time to process the fact that the life you thought you were going to have will now be different.

• Grieve what you must, then turn the corner and step forward into a new life.

• Get help and support.  Don’t try to go it alone. Get your family, friends, coaches and therapist involved. Connect with other sidelined athletes within the Sidelined USA community. 

Once you start to process your grief and mourn the “death” of your old self and your old sport, step into the future with the attitude that you are still an athlete.  Denying that part of you won’t serve you well.  

Once a competitor, always a competitor

Once I got through surgery, was off crutches and completed rehab, I was off to find a new life.  A new me. What are my other interests? What have I always wanted to try, but couldn’t because my life was skating?  For me, it was cheerleading. I remember watching the UCA Championships on TV. The flips. The tricks. The girls flying in the air.  I thought, I could do that. Wait, I don’t have a clue as to how to do that. But I did it anyway. I found that everything I learned from skating still applied.  I had to set goals. I had to practice and train. I had to fall and get back up again. Everything I learned on the ice was coming back to me. Sure, there were things I couldn’t do because of the knee, but I worked around them.  

Now that you are sidelined from your primary sport, what’s the next challenge for you? Brainstorm a list of all the things you would like to do, skills you’d like to learn, or maybe even different sports you’d like to try. 

If you decide to try a new sport, here are my suggestions:

• Start slowly

• Acknowledge that if you start something new, you won’t excel at immediately.  Remember, Malcolm Gladwell says it takes 10,000 hours to master something.

• If you are learning a new sport, get a coach.

• Give yourself time.  All good things take time.

What if you don’t have another sport you want to try? That is okay!  I don’t know what it is for you, but find something to fill that need to compete. Find another way to feed your inner competitor.  Remember, it’s a part of who you are. Don’t deny yourself, develop yourself. 

Throughout my life, I have had many opportunities to unleash that competitive spirit. When I entered the corporate world after college graduation, I approached my boss for a promotion to Manager.  She told me that I was too young. Hmm. So I asked what do I need to do, what skills do I need to master so that she would reconsider? When I got that feedback, I harnessed my competitive edge and got to work.  Six months later, I was promoted to Manager as the youngest manager in the company’s history.   

Then later in life when I was pregnant with my two kids, I tapped into that competitiveness to be the healthiest I could be during my pregnancy.  I ate well, I worked out. I kept pushing myself to be the best I could be, for them.  

Then a decade ago,  I discovered my passion for CrossFit.  Let me tell you, skating may have been my first love, but CrossFit, is a close second.  I love it! Three, two, one, “Go!” and the timer starts. That thrill in the pit of my stomach is back.  I love every part of it. My heart pumping so hard I think it’s going to bust out of my chest. Sweat dripping off my forehead.  The burn in my legs. Some people just don’t get it. I bet you do. If you are sidelined athlete, I’d strongly recommend considering CrossFit.  It is scalable to any person, age, size, or ability and can be an excellent way to tap into your inner competitive athlete.  

Approaching life’s obstacles with an athletic mindset 

Recent years have been hard on me physically.  The consequences of all of those doubles and triples on the ice led me to five surgeries in five consecutive years.  One of them being an L5/S1 back fusion. My surgeon asked, “What are your goals for this surgery?” I said, “I want to be pain-free and get back to CrossFit.”  He laughed. He actually laughed. He said that very few patients are ever “pain-free.” He said that they have a little saying in his field, “Once a back surgery patient, always a back surgery patient!”  He went on to say that realistically, less than 1% of patients experience that kind of remarkable outcome. I leaned in close to his face and retorted, “Challenge accepted.” And again drawing on my competitive spirit, I set out to prove my surgeon wrong.  

I worked hard.  I did all my exercise and physical therapy.  And when my physical therapist said do this set of exercise 3 rounds of 10 twice a day, I did 3 sets of 20 three times a day.  I pushed myself. I was going to prove him wrong. I’m proud to say I’m in that less than 1% group. I have no pain and am back to CrossFit.  And now tout a 325# deadlift. I dug in and found my inner athlete. And nothing can take that away from me.

A point of acceptance

I’ve come to accept the fact that my Olympic dream will have to remain just that, a dream.  But I’ve come to a place of thankfulness and appreciation for all that my sport gave me and all the qualities and attributes it taught me along the way.  I honestly don’t know if I would be the person I am today had it not been for skating. I’ve had this big, beautiful life. And I’m so thankful to everything I’ve learned along the way.  Skating is just one part of my story. But my story doesn’t end there.  

I know that getting the news that your career in your sport is devastating.  I know. I’ve been there. I know that all sorts of questions and doubts are going to fill your brain.  I know that you are scared, lonely and sad.  

I want you to know, you are going to be okay.  

You are going to be okay.  

In fact, you are going to be better than okay.  

You are going to be amazing.  

You are going to have a wonderful life.  

Remember who you are.  You are an athlete and a competitor.  Never, ever lose sight of that. Lean into that --  and be the champion of your own life.    

If you would like to hear more from Val about her experience as a sidelined athlete and the insights she’s learned along the way, check out her inspiring Sidelined Story podcast. Scroll down to find her story on our Sidelined Stories page.

Disclaimer: This article is for informational purposes only. Neither Sidelined USA nor its affiliates provide clinical or medical care of any kind via their relationship with Sidelined. At no time should a user have an expectation of clinical care or professional services offered or rendered. 

Val Jones

Val Jones is a member of Sidelined USA’s Board of Directors and a motivational speaker.

When a friend told me about Sidelined USA, I just knew I had to be a part of it. There wasn't anything like Sidelined when my athletic career came to an abrupt stop due to injury. I struggled for a really long time and I don't want anyone else to have to struggle alone that same way. If I can take the lessons learned from my experience and make someone else's life and journey easier, then my pain will serve a purpose. The journey from athlete to sidelined athlete is a process. And while the process may look a little different for each person, it is still a process. I am joining forces with Sidelined USA to assist other sidelined athletes in that journey to help them find a meaningful way forward.