Oh, gosh! I really thought it had been only a few weeks since my last post, but here I am two months later! How did that happen? My constant juggling of parent, coach, athlete and photographer explains a lot. As the school year comes to a close, I am hitting precious milestone with my kids. And, ahead lies my 2017 masters track season.
.I added a new event to my competitive list. I am trying long jump! Again, just as when I started with high jump three years ago, I am self-taught and making it up as I go. I was able to meet the All-American standard in my second meet. This success bears out my philosophy of life...just keep moving until you figure out the right way to do it! Yesterday, I jumped at the Dekalb Senior Games. A well run, fun meet, it was a good opportunity to practice before the National Senior Games in Birmingham, Alabama in a few weeks. Thought I don't look super happy in my warm up, my shot put and long jump marks were good. It was a great day!
0 Comments
Yesterday, as the boys and I drove home from archery practice, traffic slowed to a stop as it usually does during this drive-time commute. I don’t mind this lengthening of our journey because I know this age is fleeting. We get to talk, covering a lot of subjects that don’t get discussed once home with people being pulled in different directions by homework, eating, playing, planning or sleeping. The line to the red light was long. As we sat in the car, I saw a slight figure on my right, moving very slowly up a driveway towards the street. It was a very old woman wearing a floral dress over sweats with pretty white hair and a walker. At first, my heart leapt, because I thought she was going to cross the densely trafficked road. She was ancient, really, moving one step at a time up the driveway, and leaning heavily on her walker. When I saw she was carrying a light plastic grocery bag, I put two and two together and realized, she was making her way to her mailbox at the curb. “I think that lady is getting her mail,” I said, as our discussion turned to concern for her. We sat in the car, waiting. She moved, slowly. Traffic stayed. One step, lift walker, another step, lift walker. We wondered out loud. Why is no one getting her mail for her? How old must she be? How long she has she lived there. What’s her name? And, what did she do for a living before she ended up inching up her driveway on a walker. I was struck by her courage. The road is a busy one, her corner even more so, a confluence of four main local arteries. Still a red light. If someone saw my mom, currently safely buried under double digits of snow up north, struggling up her driveway, would I not want them to help her? She lives surrounded by family and friends, but the thought bothered me. I made a sharp right-hand turn into a nearby driveway. “Mom! You’re driving crazy!” the guys said. I leapt out of the car, “One minute.” With the eyes of my children burning into my back, I crossed the lawns and gently introduced myself to this woman. I told her, if I saw my mom struggling up her driveway, I’d want someone to help. I pointed out my children in the car, and said, “We were worried about you.” Being friendly, I said, “My mom just turned 81, you're not 81 are you?” “No,” she said looking way up at me through her glasses. “I was born in 1922. I’ll be 95 my next birthday.” Then she told me the day in June, repeating the year, just to cement the brilliance of the matter. She stayed her third of the way up her driveway, and I took her baggie, walked to the box, collected the mail — no small feat as cars whizzed by inches away from the box opening — and returned the full bag to her. “My name is Julia,” I said. “My name is Opal,” she responded. “Thank you…for your help today.” More than any discussion about doing what’s right. More than any lesson in school or charitable donation, these are the moments when our children learn. My mother always says, you can’t schedule memories. It’s the lunches we have or the reading of a catalog on the couch that are precious to us. I think you can’t schedule doing the right thing in front of your children, either. What does this have to do with sport? Isn’t this a masters athlete blog? Um, yes. The thought I didn’t express out loud to my children in the car was, I may be high jumping at 56, but someday, I too will be struggling to get my mail. My current health, fitness and potential may be the gift of DNA — and some serious training — but thankfulness for it, gratefulness for what I have in this moment, and wanting what I have, is something I need to work on. And I thank the courage of Opal, born in June of 1922, for providing me with that lesson yesterday. Here's a conversation you don't want to have with your 12-year old, at midnight, the night before a national championship. Setting: Hyatt Hotel in Albuquerque, New Mexico, the night before the 2017 USATF Masters National Championships. Child: (Rushing to the foot of my bed at the hotel). "Mom! I think I'm going to throw up!" Me: "That's okay honey, if you feel sick, you can throw up." Child: "Okay." Whoosh. Yep, he threw up right there at the end of our bed. (We're talking chunks on the carpet.) So, there I was, 10 hours before I was scheduled to compete, mopping up my poor baby kid and his throw up. After tucking him back in, I crept in the dark to clean up the floor of the hotel room and thought about how to handle this nocturnal development. My father used to say, "If nothing went wrong, you'd never have any stories to tell." Isn't that true? What if I turned up with the family all happy and well, saw their shiny faces in the stands, jumped a PB, easily won the event and went home? But, that's not how this championship played out. So, guess what? I have a story to tell! I decided (while cleaning up vomit) that I would tell myself, I am a person who operates best under duress. And this situation was going to work for me. Or else. I got a little sleep that night and woke up completely focused. I stretched, worked out some kinks, massaged oils into my creaky muscles, packed and headed to the track. The "throw-upper" ended up staying in the hotel with my husband, so I knew that was covered. My 14-year old came to the venue and was assigned "coach-duty," i.e., giving me some visual feedback from the stands and taking some video. And, I told myself to get out there and do my job. At the end of the two-hour competition, I had won gold. My win was based on jumps, which is about as close to "leaning into the tape," as you can get in high jump. The second place competitor and I both jumped the same height, but miraculously, (because I was also sporting a hamstring and foot injury!) it took me fewer jumps to get there. Phew. Let me take a moment to say, that at these competitions, ALL the athletes are winners. Getting out on a track at our age, is miraculous. Really. The hours of training, focus and preparation before you even set foot in the stadium require great commitment. And, the fitness levels of some of these athletes, is remarkable. My gold medal jump wasn't a PB and it wasn't easily won. It was tough with all I had going on. And I was pretty unsure as to how that entire morning would play out. But I did know this...I would have a story to tell! Happy to win my fifth national championship and be the 2017 USATF W55 High Jump National Champion. We won the 2017 USATF Masters Indoor National Championships in Albuquerque! This is my fifth national title and I'm thrilled. I say "we," because it takes a village to do these things. From a husband who supports me financially and emotionally, to my kids who are patient about mom's workouts (and join in when I need more motivation), my friends who pick up and drive my kids when needed, my extended family who cheer me on and listen to my worries and complaints, to my Neurosport Functional Training team: coach Evan and Dr. Paul, my masseuse Katherine and all the PT's, and Atlanta Track Club Elite who provided a space for practice -- this win is a combination of hard work, talent and support. Thanks everyone. I am officially excited about 2017! Stay tuned for the win particulars!
I am headed to the 2017 USA Track and Field Masters National Indoor Championships in Albuquerque, New Mexico at the end of this week. I'm trying not to be nervous. Indoor nationals is a very exciting meet. There are "stars of the track," former Olympians, World Record holders and other famous competitors. My job is to put my head down and do my best. I'll be thrilled if I earn another national championship title. As they say, it's an honor to even be in such company. And, though I won the national title in both 2015 and 2016, I am much newer on the circuit than many other participants. I'm still learning and this meet will be a great classroom. You can follow my progress on Instagram @juliajumping and might catch some of the meet on USATF.TV. Wish me luck!
Excuse me while I get a bit giddy. Dick Fosbury, yes, THAT Dick Fosbury just "liked" this photo I posted on Instagram. This is like Bill Gates liking a computer geek's post. It's like Beyonce liking your YouTube performance. Back in 1974, when I was in 9th grade and my track coach suggested I try high jump, she said, "You can do Western Roll, or the Fosbury Flop." I didn't know either, but as a former gymnast, I thought flipping over backwards would be fun. The dye was cast and a flopper I am. It was a fairly new style then, since Fosbury had just begun flopping in 1968. But it worked for me. After a 35-year break from high jumping, to be back is SO fun. To be noticed by Dick Fosbury -- epic!
When my oldest was a baby, I had to quickly jump in the back seat every time we went through a car wash. I'd get on the mechanized tracks, throw the car in neutral, and leap to the car seat in the back, holding his little hand and cuddling him to calm the noise, scary wash blades and darkness. This went on till he was about five years old. We didn't wash the car very often. Today, as we entered, I instinctively reached over and laid my hand on his back. But...there was no need. Yes, old habits die hard.
Our white car went into the car wash with months of dirt and soot, assaulted by the hours of driving that a mom of middle-schoolers with myriad activities does. The soap and water cleared and we drove out into a sparkling sunny day. As a masters athlete trying to find the balance between training, injury, healing and competition, I wish I could just "car wash" injuries away, as I continue to recover from a hamstring pull -- with indoor nationals only a few weeks away. Don't we all wish we could "car wash away" many things that bother us. Physical injuries, emotional tension, worries of the day, political differences, parenting mistakes, tiredness, and that loop in our head of things to get done. But, we won't get everything done. We'll get enough done. Everything won't get repaired. But it'll work just fine. Everything won't be perfect, but it'll be enough to get by. And, we'll get there...one car wash at a time. After two weeks of worrying about a strained hamstring, I'm back at the gym in full force. Indoor nationals will be here before I know it, with a chance to gain a fifth national championship title - if I'm lucky. Thinking positively helps, as well as some serious rope sessions!
If you compete as a masters athlete in high jump or pole vault, you always deal with the challenge of finding a place to practice. When I happened to spot the high jump standards at the side of the track at Union College last week, I quickly set them up at the back of the pole vault mat and snuck in some low practice jumps. Couldn't resist popping over since I hadn't jumped in four months! There's no where to go but up! |
AuthorJulia Curran-Villarreal is a three-time USA W55 national masters high jump champion. After a 35-year break from her favorite high school sport of track & field, Julia returned to competition in 2013 at the age of 53. Follow her journey on @juliajumping on Instagram and @juliacurran on Twitter. Archives
August 2019
Categories |