Competitive maturity
I would define competitive maturity as accepting adversity and getting after it, chasing excellence, taking risks, and elevating personal performance.
An example of this in team sports is not sinking to your competitors level, whether they’re playing dirty or just aren’t as skilled. Another example is cheering on your teammate even if they get the start over you; keeping your head up and working even harder to earn it next time.
Competitive maturity is something I had to develop quickly as an 18 year old freshman beginning college soccer. It’s something my coaches looked for, demanded and even celebrated.
While I wouldn’t claim to have been a perfect example of this trait, I strived to find the maturity in my competitive side and drew it to the surface. It’s only now that I’m realizing this attribute did not carry over to my individual endeavors outside of team athletics.
My once teamsmanship self grew angsty and unhealthily competitive with not only myself, but with Jakob, my boyfriend and training partner, too.
However, in the last month I’ve noticed a shift.
When Jakob leaves me in the dust on an interval run I no longer get as mad or discouraged or rude, as I used to. I hardly even flinch and instead just do my best, catch my breath, and embrace his congratulatory knuckles at the end.
It sounds simple and maybe even silly, because why would I get so disgruntled in the first place? I really couldn’t tell you, but this has been a big hurdle for me to overcome.
What’s weird is that while I've noticed the shift and feel proud of it, I don’t feel like I deserve it. I hadn’t put in the work to be any different, so why was I?
Probably because I did so without realizing it.
Last December (2023), Jakob signed up for his first Ironman 70.3. I wasn’t interested in getting back into triathlon training yet, mostly because I didn’t want to swim, so I said, “this can be your thing.” And I sat it out.
Although I couldn’t stay sitting for long and instead signed up for my second marathon.
Initially Jakob had signed up for the marathon too, but long story short, he got injuries during Ironman training, still completed his Ironman, but didn’t have enough time to recover for a full marathon. He opted to run the half and finished with a personal best.
During the three months before the marathon, I trained solo and learned how to push myself to my limit without anyone beside me. When the race rolled around, I ran it alone; no music, no Jakob, just me.
This experience and reflection has helped me understand that it’s a privilege to have someone to workout with, to push you, to even make you feel a little slow because at the end of the day, it’ll make you faster.
That’s something I knew from athletics, from soccer. But it’s only now translated to my current endeavors and I couldn’t be more proud of this growth.
