Character Under Construction

Since I can remember, competition has been part of my life. It was one of the only constants in my mother’s otherwise turbulent childhood and thankfully, she made it part of mine. But it wasn’t until I became an adult that I understood the real value of competition, and what it means to win and lose.

With a freshly printed degree and the first installment of my student loan pending, I decided to move from Berkeley back to Seattle and continue my job search with a few less expenses. An existing network made it easier to pick up work, so I accepted an offer to officiate high school wrestling for the season.

The wrestling mat was familiar territory, though I was seeing it through a different lens. While my own nerves were less present, the courage it takes any young person to slip into a skin-tight leotard and put it all on the line in front of everyone they know was palpable. I quickly learned that as a referee I had secured the best seat in the house to what I now define as character under construction.

In wrestling, a “pin” is awarded when one wrestler successfully holds an opponent’s shoulder blades simultaneously to the mat. If you’re unlucky enough to find yourself on your back at the beginning of the round, they’re some of the longest two minutes you’ll experience, if you choose to fight.

Often, I saw young wrestlers end up on their back. Some let their shoulders drop effortlessly to the mat, signaling defeat. Others rock them back and forth with the same urgency as a fish out of water, fighting bitterly to survive until the next round. The decision to fight in the face of seemingly inevitable defeat earned the benefit of my discretion as a referee, as I reveled in my front row seat to something much bigger than a wrestling match.

Life will throw you to your back. I guarantee it. Obstacles in your personal and professional life will attempt to pin your shoulders to the mat. More than one voice will tell you to quit. But it’s what we decide to do in those moments that makes all the difference. It is struggle, and how we deal with it, that defines us. For the wrestler, the alchemy of character lives in the space between the mat and the shoulder.

Inspired, I started Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu that same year. I train, I compete, I win, I lose. But by embracing the struggles, I never stop growing. Through them, I become a stronger version of myself. One of the greatest jiu-jitsu practitioners of all time captured it best, “Sometimes, you don’t have to win. You cannot win. But that has nothing to do with losing.”