Playing through pain is a universal concept in sports. I am positive for every story I have where I sucked it up, put my nose back in place and just carried on – I have a male counter part who can recount his own wounded warrior saga. But the thing is, right or wrong – well most probably wrong, especially in this day in age – the female athlete always feels more pressure to prove herself. There is still a part of us still fighting to change stereotypes and perceptions that should have been put to rest a long time ago – that we are weaker, more sensitive to pain, or lacking the endurance which sports demands. So, we double down. I’ll play through it all. Broken bones, torn muscles, ruptured ligaments, jammed fingers, massive bruises with every shade of blue purple and red, cuts that never heal, extreme fatigue, endless training sessions…bring it all on. There is no quit – in fact, there is a burning desire to shove it in the face of perceived doubters. Let me show you just what I can do. Warrior girl.

There is something extremely empowering in knowing that you can take the pain – to plant your feet firmly on the ground as a massive athlete is barreling toward you, take the charge, absorb the pain as your body is thrown to the floor and then just get up. To know that the pain is fleeting, it will pass, and you will go on playing. Of all the skills and life lessons I have learned through sports – leadership, work ethic, teamwork – knowing that I can take it – that has served me well time and time again. When I have gone through particularly rough times, I would put my game face on. I would look into my own eyes through the mirror and frantically search for the voice that told me – I’m not hurting. And even if I am – I can take it, I can go on. Warrior girl.

But there is a danger in this too. Sokolove points out that ACL tears in young girls and women are “overexposure injuries” – the more often a girl plays, the greater her odds are of suffering a tear. You keep going and going and going. There is no stop because you aren’t supposed to, you aren’t allowed to – that doesn’t fit into the mentality we are expected to maintain.  But then something happens – you land the wrong way, you pivot too quickly – and it all comes crashing down. Game over, season finished sometimes before it even began…because we thought, because we were indoctrinated to believe – that our capacity to withstand discomfort and pain is limitless. And then we learn that’s not actually the way it’s meant to work. Something is going to snap sooner or later. We are actually weakened by the grind.

I’ve found myself struggling recently with the trials and tribulations I meet off the field. Not that I want it – but these days a smashed nose or sprained ankle or twisted knee – they don’t seem so difficult to manage when I think about the complexities of life. I’m a parent, I’m a single parent at that and a mother to a child with special needs – the obvious struggles are inherent within that statement itself. But there are also other constant and continuing stresses in my life which aren’t so obvious – which make me nauseas just thinking about – and these certainly take a toll. On one hand, the athlete in me pushes me to play on through life’s daily challenges – to absorb the hardships, the frustrations, at times ya – the pain, and keep going. On the other hand, I also find myself saying it doesn’t have to be like this, to admit the day-to-day grind can be punishing. Overexposure, again and again. Am I really meant to just fight through it? To live like that? I am told that the answer to this is unequivocally no. I don’t have to power through everything in life all the time. Logically I believe this – I even preach this same thought to friends when they are going through challenges. But I find it so hard to strike that balance between gutting it out and saying it’s just too much. Because if I said it’s too much – what would that make me? So much of my strength is self defined and wrapped up in my ability to keep going. How can I be a competitor in life if I give into the difficulty? Would I still be a Warrior Girl?

Maybe the answer lies in understanding the mechanics of prevention. Sokolove offers a comprehensive preventative program that can help our female athletes avoid an ACL tear and other devastating injuries. The ideas are based around the physiological differences between men and women and therefore developing more suitable training programs. Equally important he urges an elimination of constant overexposure and encourages coaches to teach their players to speak up about pain – even minor discomfort. Prevention. I know I can play through pain – but I don’t have to. There’s a better way. There are steps and methods I can implement in my life to avoid the emotional turmoil before it even begins. More than that, giving myself permission to say I’m even minorly hurting – eventually, I may even acknowledge this is the more responsible thing to do.  It might make my life easier. It might make me stronger.

Everyone loves the image of the wounded warrior. Its more exciting, more dramatic, more marketable. Kerri Strug lands on one leg to grab the gold. You can do it! Abby Wombach gets her head stapled after splitting it open in a nasty collision. #badass. You can’t help but respect their gritty performances.  But then what happens after the wounded warrior drags herself across the finish line? What’s left of her for the next fight? Maybe the real sense of empowerment comes from prevention and preparation because you are anticipating the challenges ahead. You are recognizing that you can get hurt, that you might even get hurt  – but you have mechanisms in place that will prevent you from completely crashing. Maybe you won’t make headlines. Blood and guts sells better than smart and sensible but that’s ok because you invested in the process, because you took control of your own fate, because you came to truly understand what you need… because you can actually go on the next day. You have redefined your strength by cultivating your weaknesses. Warrior Girl.

Last week, Donald Trump hosted the U.S 2018 Winter Olympic and Paralympic team at the White House. He acknowledged their hard work and great accomplishments. He gave specific praise to the Paralympians and referred to their athletic performances as “inspiring.” He almost had it. He almost pulled it off. And then he said it…“its a little too tough to watch too much” of the Paralympics. Oh man.

In the interest of being fair, Trump’s team has said the comment was referencing his busy schedule. As much as he wanted, he found it “tough” to find the time to watch all of the Paralympic events. Ok. Even if this is true, most people were shocked, outraged, stunned, appalled, offended…pick whatever adjective you want. When I saw this, I drew upon the always reliable WTF…Amichai was obviously not in my presence…If he had been, I would have busted out my mom’s preferred way to curse without cursing in front of the kids – SUCKER!

The thing is – if we put aside the alarming insensitive nature of his comments, if we casually put aside the fact that he’s the leader of the free world and should have enough awareness to use some sort of internal filter, if we put aside the dark and disturbing fact that he has made fun of  a disabled reporter  – maybe Trump is inadvertently helping? Maybe he is providing a platform to confront our own feelings and perceptions about disability and how that makes us feel. Perhaps in his supremely oblivious ignorance, he opened a window and it is upon us – the rightfully shocked, outraged, stunned…etc. – to honestly climb through it.

I’ll go first.

I’ve referenced my athletic past. My childhood, adolescence, adulthood – fine my entire life – revolved and continues to revolve around sport. I have always been surrounded by teammates who were able-bodied like myself. But I won’t place the blame squarely on sports, because even off the court or field, when I think about the spectrum of people who have come in and out of my life – there is basically no one whom I was in steady contact with that had any type of disability – cognitive or physical. I can remember only one boy from camp who wore a leg brace and walked with a limp…hindsight is 20/20 and I wish I would have known him better.

I simply wasn’t exposed to very many disabled people. When I would see someone who was paralyzed, or someone missing a limb (or limbs), or someone walking with a limp, or a someone who had a physical deformity – it wasn’t in my norm. Let’s put the cards on the table – for me, that was tough to see… and I tended to look away. I don’t think that made me a bad person – uninformed, uneducated, naïve – absolutely, but bad? Don’t know. And while I’d like to hope that people are more informed than I was…I have a feeling most have similar reactions – because it can look scary, it can look uncomfortable, it can look…tough. And we often don’t like to see tough things in life. I think that’s ok to admit.

While I’m not scared to admit these things, what is scary for me is that if Amichai had never had a stroke, had never been diagnosed with CP – I would have just carried on – never ever gaining a deeper understanding of disability. That is scary because this understadning has enriched my life. I am not saying that I am happy he had a stroke. That was traumatic. I am not saying that this is what I wished for him. It certainly was not. Maybe I’m just saying that there are blessings in the dark, and lessons to be learned. And maybe Amichai was given specifically to me so that I could learn…and hopefully teach him a thing or two.

Amichai exposed me to a world I never imagined I would be a part of. Through him, through other children and adults that I have been exposed to -its all changed. Its not tough to see because that’s not all there is to see. There is innovation and determination. There is excellence and precision. There is passion and energy. There is humility and pride. There is intelligence and perspective. There is beauty and kindness. There is understanding and inclusivity. There is capability and strength.

We aren’t all privileged to be exposed to this daily or even semi-daily. Learn from my mistakes. Expose yourself to disability (I really don’t like that word – I’m open to suggestions). Confront it. Make yourself uncomfortable for one moment and then see that that moment is fleeting and shallow. We can all do better. Here’s an easy way to start – watch the Paralympics. You will not be disappointed. They provide an opportunity for exposure. They provide an opportunity to look past a missing limb, look past paralysis, look past deformity, look past a limp, look past blindness or any other impairment – and see the real deal.

Hey Mr. President, if the Paralympics were tough to watch – my advice – keep watching.