Dear Nonie, one last letter on love and traveling every day

Dear Nonie,

It’s been a year since you sent me that email, and I’ve yet to respond. As the old saying goes, better late than never.

I’m not sure how Lillian is, but I have no doubt she’s holding her own and showering her wisdom on all she meets. Even through that whole hospital ordeal, I never actually got my appendix taken out. They put me on antibiotics and told me to take it easy for the next 4 weeks. If you ask me, I can think of worst places to be instructed to take it easy.

I was released from the hospital just in time for Molly’s visit.  I made sure to follow the doctors strict orders. We camped in Booderee National Park on the edge of an isolated beach amongst a family of kangaroos and went on a Jervis Bay cruise where wild dolphins danced alongside our boat.

Then, my mom and dad flew in and we road-tripped on the Great Ocean Road alongside breathtaking beach views, and continued on to Phillip Island where, at sunset, we witnessed thousands of penguins waddle from the ocean to the the beach for a nights rest in their burrows.

The more I travel, the more I understand why you backpacked 40 plus countries. From your animated stories of Istanbul, Machu Picchu and elsewhere, I’m convinced that adventuring lights up your soul in a similar way it does for me.

After our Australian adventures, my dad flew home, but my mom and I trekked on to conquer a slice of New Zealand.

We flew into Queenstown and were immediately immersed in the country’s unique flare; vast snow-capped mountain ranges, rolling green hills, brilliant blue waters; a combination of California and Oregon on all-natural, grass-fed steroids. The kind of images that look photoshopped in National Geographic magazines. To this day, it’s one of my favorite places I’ve ever visited. It’s also hands down one of the worst.

On our last day in Queenstown, my mom and I planned to bike around Lake Wakatipu.  The sun rises there around 4am and sets after 11pm, optimal for anyone who likes to carpe diem.

We woke up early and headed to a travel information shop to inquire about bike rentals. The window was plastered with “free-wifi” signs. Free wifi was difficult to come by and I was excited to check-in with people back at home. We entered and connected to the internet. My mom’s phone lit up with a message from my dad and Gary telling her to give them a call as soon as she could. She dialed my dad.

And that’s when I sensed something was wrong.

You know my mom, I swear she’s made of more stone than the Great Wall of China.  She doesn’t shed a tear easily. I asked her what happened. With her hands buried in her face, she muttered your name.

What?

Why?

How?

I didn’t understand it. I didn’t believe it. It didn’t make sense.

You were the one taking care of Allan. You just sent me that email. You just placed an order to send me another batch of your friend’s delectable slow-roasted hazelnuts. We were supposed to plan our cruise trip together.

I didn’t get to respond to your letter.

Big events, often tragedies, jolt us from our mundane routines and force us to focus on what’s important in life. Why does it take such catastrophic events to gain perspective?

I recently read the book Tuesdays with Morrie, about a 70 year-old professor diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s Disease. His body was slowly deteriorating. Death was inevitable,  yet he had the most positive outlook on life. Every Tuesday, his past college student would visit and ask Morrie questions regarding life. The student asked Morrie if he was worried about death and being remembered.

Morrie answered, “no, love is how you live on.”

I certainly felt your love when you were physically here, but now, I feel it in an indescribably more powerful way.

One reason I think your love is engrained in me and countless others, is because of your endless travels. With traveling, the purpose is to explore the territory, the culture, and the people. Each morning, you wake up with a curiosity and excitement to see things you’ve never seen before. When you meet people on the journey you tend to open up faster because it’s uncertain if you’ll ever reacquaint.

With each new expedition, you understand that the world is full of more beautiful things and people than we are physically capable of experiencing. It’s eye-opening and humbling, and spurs self-discovery.

When the trip is over, we arrive home in the wee hours,  jet-lagged, often dreading going “back to reality.” But you, instead, would wake up the next day as if the vacation hadn’t ended; with that same sense of wonder and keen awareness of all around you.

At your trip to the grocery store, you would treat the butcher like she was the Queen of England. When you would come to my youth soccer games, it was as if you were watching a Barcelona vs Real Madrid Champions League final. When you walked into Anthropologie, you would touch the embroidered jackets as if they were handwoven delicacies from India.

Every day was a travel day for you.

You lived fearlessly, sincerely absorbing each person and moment to their fullest capacity.

And because of this, as Morrie responded, your love lives on.

It shouldn’t take a car accident, a terrorist attack, or an unexpected illness to gain perspective.  And I know I don’t have to be in Zimbabwe or Croatia or Lagos to appreciate the moment.

Every day should be a travel day. I should expect to witness miraculous things and meet life-changing people. As you’ve shown me, if you allow yourself to be open-minded and astutely present, you will appreciate life’s simple, yet profound, pleasures.

Even though a whole year has already passed, I still hear your cheerful “how is my favorite person in the whole wide world?” during our weekly phone calls and your infectious laughter at family gatherings. Sadness still comes in waves, but it’s always blanketed in an irreplaceable warmth: your fearless love.

I miss you every day but I promise that no matter where I am or what I am doing, I travel with you.

Love you always,

Kendall

Throwing Away 9 Trash Bags Full of my Belongings Changed my Life

On every away trip I travel with a banana in my bag. I rarely anticipate traveling with the banana, but before I leave the house, there’s always one banana on the counter staring me down, begging not to be left behind. I give in and chuck the thing in my bag with the intention of eating it on the plane ride. Yet, without fail, I always forget I packed the banana until I arrive at the hotel. I open my bag and find a sticky, smeared brown mash covering the innards of my bag.

The vomity goo serves as a blatant reminder of one of my least favorite qualities; I am a slob.

Before I could talk, my parents nicknamed me SQ, short for Spill Queen. An average meal ended with mac and cheese splayed across the kitchen floor. As I grew older, my biggest fights with my parents revolved around my messy room. They’d ask me to pick up my stuff and I’d stall as long as possible.  Usually, they laid down an ultimatum and threatened to call my friend’s mom to tell her I wouldn’t be able to have our much anticipated weekend sleepover. Only then, would I give in, pile up all my belongings from the floor, and chuck them into my closet with just enough space to shut the door.

This is not something I’m proud of. I dislike my slobby tendencies and have failed many times in attempt to become tidier. After a deep clean of my room, I’d swear on my Eeyore pillow pet that this would be the day that I consistently put away my belongings. One week later, I’d be back to square one.

I simply accepted that I was an unfortunate beneficiary of this irreversible personality trait.

But then, awhile back I was at a family dinner and my mother informed me of a book she started reading;  “The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up.”  I had never before witnessed someone so animated about organizing and cleaning.  My brothers, dad, and I rolled our eyes as she explained the book’s philosophy which involved clothes having feelings and a tutorial on how to fold your clothes.

I left the conversation intrigued, but not sold. I always have heaps of books that are on my to-read-next list, and a book detailing how to clean wasn’t a worthy addition.

A couple days later, my team and I landed after a late-night flight. We arrived at our hotel near midnight and I zombie-walked to our room, eager to hit the hay as soon as I reached my bed. I zipped open my bag to grab my pajamas, and felt something sticky on my fingertips. Another smeared banana.

You’ve got to be kidding me! This was the last straw. I was fed up with having to wash my bag after every trip. I’d had enough of this monkey business. Tomorrow I would start the “Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up.”

The book commenced with a background of the author Marie Kondo. When Marie was in middle school, she hid in her classroom and tidied up the bookshelves while her classmates were outside running around in PE class. She spent her free-time scouring magazines and articles for the newest methods of organizing. After school, she’d hurry home to emulate these techniques in her own room. Now at 30 years-old, Marie has established herself as an organizing consultant.

Right off the bat, Marie’s undeniable passion intrigued me and embodied an Arrow Living mindset. This is someone who managed to create a career around her obsession of tidying.

Marie went on to explain that messy rooms aren’t due to a lack of skill, but rather a lack of awareness. Only a select few organize naturally. All this time, I blamed myself for my inability to stay clean, but Marie was telling me it’s not entirely my fault. I was starting to dig this chick.

Marie claimed that her method, if followed, will allow you to be tidy for the rest of your life. I took out my pen and a pad of paper, and vigorously took notes.

I finished the book in two days and am convinced Marie cast a spell on me. I could not be more excited to get home to begin the tidying process. Who was Marie turning me into? I didn’t know, but I liked it.

Due to the vagabond lifestyle of a professional women’s soccer player, the majority of my clothes reside at my parent’s place. Once we landed back in Portland, I drove straight to their home to begin the organizing.

Marie’s first step is to choose a category and place every item you own of this category into the same vicinity.

I decided to be aggressive and tackle my biggest category first; clothes. My closet is jam-packed with 12 year old soccer cleats, holey socks, high school memorabilia , yellow-but-supposed-to-be-green weathered shirts, Forever 21 star-ladened belts, and every free t-shirt I’d ever caught at a sporting event. I keep most everything with the thought process of “maybe next year my sparkly crop top with embroidered artificial diamonds will be trendy.”

But that was the “pre-meeting Marie” me. Now that Marie was my homegirl, I was inspired to make moves. I heaved every shirt, jacket, pant, scarf, skort, and purse out of my closet and into the middle of my room.

After compiling all of my clothes into the same arena, I realized a few things. First, I am a raging tea bag and gum wrapper hoarder. I could open up my own tea shop with the amount of spare tea bags I found dispersed throughout my coat pockets and backpacks. And I could then decorate the wall with a 10 foot by 10 foot edgy art piece solely consisting of vibrant 5 gum wrappers.

But even more startling was the amount of clothes I’ve acquired over my lifetime-especially for an anti-shopper like myself. I want to gauge my eye balls out when I walk into a store and see a plain grey V neck shirt that is the same price as a four-course steakhouse dinner.  I appreciate shopping occasionally, but I’m more a one shop and done person.  Then I crave my eye mask, some chamomile tea, and a nap with my dog.

Next, I began the second step: purging. In the past, I’ve gotten rid of things because I simply didn’t like them, or for size issues. For instance,  I’ll part ways with my middle school dress only because it now fit like a skin-tight tank top.

But my girl Marie had a different way of looking at it. Marie instructs you to take each item of clothing, hold it, feel it, do what you need to do with it, then ask yourself the question “Does this bring me joy?” If it does, then you may keep the item. If not, or if you even doubt your love for it, then it goes in the discard pile. You need not feel guilty about getting rid of anything, even if the purchase ripped a hole through your wallet or your grandma gifted it to you for your Quinceañera. Marie explains that the item brought you joy at some point, thus it’s served its purpose. Thank it and move on knowing it will bring someone else joy.

I am firm believer that a successful life revolves around experiencing happiness. We should be doing things that make us happy in the present moment or in the foreseeable future. In order to achieve this joy, we should surround ourself with positive supportive people, and take actions that trigger enjoyment.

Yes, many times we perform tasks that don’t immediately elicit happiness- like running hill sprints, paying taxes, and voluntarily entering the torture chamber that some call the dentist office-but the reason for these actions, almost always comes down to the fact that it will eventually make us happy.

I’ve made a conscious effort to follow these happiness guidelines. Yet up until now, I’d severely overlooked the significance of my room. The space that bookmarks ever single one of my days. The space I come home to, slide under the covers, and shut my eyes to absorb all of the day’s insights.  Then,  9 hours later I open my eyes to this space, verifying that I’ve been given the opportunity to live another day.  Yet I’ve cluttered this sacred space with meaningless and outdated items.

There are many circumstances in life that are out of control. But we do have the ability to dictate what items surround us and I’ve realized that all my life I’ve unnecessarily immersed myself with “okay” items.  But I’m not okay with living an okay life. I’m not okay with okay dreams or okay relationships. I want insanely rewarding and fulfilling experiences. If I want to achieve maximum happiness, it’s logical to create a living quarter filled with things that ultimately align with this innate desire.

After asking “does this bring me joy?” to my underwear, socks, and hundreds of other items, I gained a pretty solid understanding of what brings me happiness. Since then, I’ve used this question as a filter beyond my linens and garments.

“Does this bring me joy” is an invaluable question because it discourages deep analytical thinking or outside influences. It’s an emotional question that is based on intuition that only you can answer.

It’s pretty transparent whether something elicits or will elicit joy. This allows us to hone in on our self-judgement and get a better sense of who and what we want in life, and then take steps towards living in alignment with these values.

Through asking this question, I eliminated 9 garbage bags full of belongings. Holy s*&t!(pun intended).

After purging, Marie then tells you to put your clothes in their designated home and fold them the “Kon Mari” way. The standard stacking clothes method, leaves the poor clothes at the bottom of the drawer neglected and suffocated. The Kon Mari method allows each item to stand up vertically, giving the clothes life and making each item visible. The method essentially brings the clothes to life.

 After fully completing the entire process, I can verify that Marie’s title, “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up”, is warranted.

 It’s been months since my re-vamp and I can honestly say I’m a new woman. I’m not only tidier, but I feel a sense of relief and bliss when I enter my room. I am happier and I am the first to admit that it’s weird. Really weird. I never in a million years thought tidying up would have such a profound impact on my life. Occasionally, I let my clothes pile up and I still spill on myself at meals. Some things never change. But one of the most revolutionary byproducts of the process: I haven’t had to deal with any smeared bananas since. Does that bring me joy? Yes, yes it does.

Dominate

Niyi has been one of the most influential people in not only my athletics, but also in life. Before seeing Niyi, I  was motivated and knew I wanted to accomplish big things, but I didn’t know exactly what I needed to do to get there. I now have a system in place that has allowed me to feel more confident and in control than I’ve ever felt before. 

Niyi has created a course to help athletes gain a relentless mindset in their sport and overall life. 

Niyi’s stuff is legendary and if you’re not satisfied you get your money back. Literally nothing to lose and everything to gain. CHeck it out, you won’t regret it.

Steph Curry: Actions Speak Louder Than Words

Let the haters hate. As long you believe in and know your potential, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.

For Sinead Farrelly, Nothing's Real but Trees

The 2014 National Women’s Soccer League season ended and-like most players-Sinead Farrelly packed up her belongings in preparation for her 6 month relocation until next season.

But the night before Sinead’s flight to her hometown Philadelphia, something didn’t feel right. Coming off of her first stint with the Portland Thorns, Sinead grew to love the city’s abundant nature, friendly people, and laid back demeanor. She wasn’t ready to leave it all behind. Sinead fell asleep with an uneasy knot in her stomach.

When she woke up, the feeling hadn’t ceased. Without thinking, Sinead picked up her phone, called Alaska Airlines, and cancelled her flight.

She then composed a tweet:

To most people, this rash decision would induce massive anxiety and qualify as borderline crazy.

But for Sinead, impulse actions are standard protocol.

”Everything I do is basically based on feeling. I go with my gut.”

Sinead developed this “gut instinct” back at age 4, when she befriended her soccer teammate Bridget O’Brien.

From day one, Bridget and Sinead were inseparable. They bonded over their natural inclination towards living authentically and spontaneously.

They played on the same soccer team throughout childhood and begged their parents to let one of them switch schools so they could spend even more time together.

Growing up in a world filled with peer pressure and societal norms, it’s often hard for children to confidently express their true selves.

But Sinead and Bridget made a pack to ignore outside influences and listen to their hearts, regardless of whether it was right or wrong.

Applying this philosophy most often worked in their favor, but it occasionally got them in sticky situations.

One such incident was when 14 year-olds Sinead and Bridget took a trip to the Atlantic ocean with their other friend Beth. Beth’s brother dropped the three of them off at an island via boat and said he’d come back and grab them in an hour. After the brother left, the three started getting harassed by horseflies. The only way to ward the flies off was to submerge their body under the water. Bridget and Sinead didn’t feel like dealing with the situation until their ride returned, so they decided to swim back to the dock.

“Our other friend said that was a terrible idea because the dock was miles away and we would get in trouble. Bridget and I get overly confident when we hang out so we said we were going to swim anyway.”

The two swam about 300 yards before they tired and realized they were nowhere close to the dock. On top of that, huge ships were crossing the water beeping their horns and yelling at Sinead and Bridget to get out of the way.

The two frantically waved their arms in the middle of water until the older brother finally came back to pick them up.

“When we came home we got in a lot of trouble, mostly because we put ourselves in a lot of danger because of the ships crossing.”

Sinead is well aware that this wasn’t a wise decision, but she doesn’t regret it.

“We put ourselves in a lot situations because it was what we wanted. Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn’t. But I think learning what’s right or wrong, for the most part, you have to experience.”

Despite living across the country from each other, Bridget and Sinead’s actions are still guided by their 4 year-old free-spirited ideals.

Even though they hardly get to spend time together now, they share an unwavering respect for one another.

“We have allowed each other to grow freely. Knowing that Bridget is living true to herself gives me the real freedom to trust my own intuition. I feel comfortable living how I want.”

Thus, 20 years later, there Sinead stood on the curb outside of her apartment; homeless, jobless, car-less. Uncertain of everything, except for the validation that her gut was telling her she needed to stay in Portland.

Within minutes of tweeting out her decision, Sinead received numerous responses from people offering a helping hand.

One particular tweet from a woman named Amanda read, “Cheers to a new adventure! I can help with housing, dm me if you’d like details.”

Sinead direct messaged Amanda for further inquiry.

Amanda explained that two of her friends had reached out to the Thorn’s organization at the beginning of the season expressing an interest in hosting a player.

Amanda forwarded the contact information to Sinead. Within minutes, Sinead dialed the number.

A mellow-voiced, lady named Hanh answered the phone. She offered some insight on her personal background and living situation. She explained her wife Kelly, and her lived in east Portland and had a 3 year-old son named Gabriel. She was a child psychiatrist, and Kelly worked from home. They loved to cook and had a spare bedroom. They assured Sinead that she didn’t owe them anything, they simply wanted to help out in whatever way they could.  After a brief 15 minute conversation with this stranger, Sinead was sold.

“I can tell the first time if I like someone. I can tell from their energy. The phone call didn’t feel weird. It felt right. I didn’t feel like I was in danger and I was also in a bit of a dire situation.”

Hanh, who was born in Vietnam towards the end of the Vietnam war, can relate to Sinead’s vulernable state.

Growing up, Hanh’s parents were not approved by the communist government, which made it impossible for them to get a job. Hahn’s mom supported her family by selling cigarettes one at a time on the street. Hanh came from almost nothing.

The next day, Hanh drove to pick Sinead up at her apartment.

Hanh was instantly amazed by Sinead’s confident spirit; “she had no idea who I was, no idea what i looked like. I drove up to the apartment and there she was with her three bags of stuff ready to go on to her next adventure.”

Sinead piled her belongings into the back of Hanh’s car and headed to her new home. Although they were complete strangers, Sinead felt at ease.

Hanh shared Sinead’s sentiments;

“I think in some ways it was meant to be. I came into this country as a refuge at age 17. It was overwhelming. I didn’t know anything, I had to start pretty much from scratch. A few months before I met Sinead, I celebrated being in this country for 25 years. At this time, I thought about how thankful I was of the people helping me along the way and that I was now in the position where I could give back in some way.”

Hanh and Kelly wanted to help Sinead out of pure selflessness, and Sinead felt the love the moment she stepped foot into their home.

“They made me feel so welcome from the start. They cooked me meals, I played games with Gabriel, and every Friday we’d go on a different hike. It was awesome.”

The next 6 months, Sinead created art projects with Gabriel and partook in all of their family festivities. She took up a coaching job, explored Oregon’s abundant nature, and created numerous other relationships. She became part of the their family and now considers Portland her home.

All of this fortune stemmed from an impulse tweet. A bold decision by anyone’s standards, but a move that aligns with Sinead’s optimistic outlook on life. One that simply felt right.

Sinead carries this philosophy with her at all times. It’s conveyed through her effortless, flowy style of play-which she says comes out only when she’s playing free.

It’s portrayed through the tattoos painted over her body. One reads “small minds can’t comprehend big spirits.” Another reads “no fear, no limits” Her most recent tattoo, a landscape of trees, is perhaps her most meaningful one yet. The image is in honor of Bridget and Sinead’s self-created motto, “Nothing’s real but trees.”

“There's a million sides to everyone's story. We can't validate what is true or what other people's realities are. We can only try to make our own lives and surroundings the best places for us to thrive. We love trees and nature because it just is. It's so simple. Trees just grow the way they want to, in whatever direction, and they just are. And there's no complications.”

Nothing's real but trees.  For Sinead, life is that simple.

Hold yourself Accountable First

Allie Long and her Resting Itch Face

Every morning Allie Long rolls into the locker room with her headphones on and Starbucks in hand. She changes into her practice attire, laces up her cleats, and heads out to the field with Tobin Heath to mess around with the ball before practice.

Often times she’ll perform this routine without saying “hi” to anyone.

After warming up, practice almost always begins with a passing pattern.

If the ball isn’t passed hard enough, Allie will yell at you.

Next, we will perform a possession drill.

If the team is playing at slow tempo, Allie will demand you to play faster.

Practice ends with a small-sided game to goal.

If you don’t play Allie the ball when she’s wide open for a shot, she will fling her hands in the air and roll her eyes at you.

Practice will end, and Allie will sometimes gather a bag of balls to work on her shooting. Coach Paul Riley will urge Allie to rest her legs that day. Allie will argue with him and insist that she feels fine. They’ll come up with a mutual agreement and Paul will allot her a certain number of shots. Allie will agree.

To the unbiased bystander, Allie may come off as self-righteous or bratty, but that’s far from the truth.

To fully understand the meaning behind Allie’s mannerisms and actions, one must reflect back to her 22 year-old self and the the single most influential day of her life.

Coming off a national championship win with University of North Carolina, and performing well with the U-21 national team, Allie received a call into the the full national team.

Allie always dreamt of playing for the US national team, but with the team’s average age in the upper 20’s she was surprised when she received the invitation.

“I couldn’t believe it. It’s what I always dreamed of, but I thought I had to be older to get called up to the full team. It was one of the greatest feelings ever.”

Allie entered the camp not knowing what to expect, but was excited to find out.

In only her first practice, Allie suffered an MCL injury, sidelining her for the rest of camp.

Even though Allie competed in merely half of a training session, it was enough to give birth to an indescribable itch.  An itch that confirmed, without a doubt, that reaching the highest level, playing for the U.S National team was her purpose and what she wanted. An itch to represent her country on the highest stage in the World Cup and Olympics.

And this itch has been the driving force behind her actions ever since.

Pre-itch Allie was on cruise-control and got by largely on talent.  She worked on some aspects of her game, but not seriously.

Post-itch Allie didn’t want to have any weaknesses.

“Being in camp at 22 made the dream more of a reality. It made me want to give everything I had to get back there.”

Allie knew that in order to earn another shot with the national team she had to upgrade her game.

Every season Allie found ways to make herself uncomfortable and challenge herself.   She practiced with boys teams, studied the absolute best players while watching the English Premier League. She ventured overseas to play with the world-class France team, Paris Saint Germain.  She practiced every angle and type of shot imaginable-bent balls, driven balls, outside of the foot, left foot, right foot.

Year after year passed and Allie hadn’t heard a word from the national team.

From putting in this much work, one would expect to reap rewards. Yet Allie still hadn’t achieved her desired outcome.

“Sometimes I questioned myself. Is all this work worth anything? But I knew it was. I knew I had to keep going and give it my all.”

With each year that passed, Allie’s itch grew bigger. She had a burning desire to get back into the national team picture and knew she was good enough.  Allie kept focusing on improving and performing well with her club team, the Portland Thorns.

After two exceptional seasons of being the most productive player on the pitch with the Thorns, Coach Jill Ellis finally took notice and invited Allie back to camp.

“When I opened up the email, I cried. I was so thankful and happy. I immediately thought back to a day when it was freezing cold and I was walking and dragging a bag of soccer balls 10 blocks to practice at a field. At that time, I remember thinking it would all be worth it.”

On May 14, 2014 in a stadium full of 28,255 fans in Winnipeg, Canada, Allie’s dream of playing for the national team came true. In the 68th minute, Allie replaced Morgan Brian with a surreal calmness.

“[Entering the game] was one of the greatest moments of my life. Everyone asked if I was neverous. I wasn’t. It felt like I was right where I was meant to be. I was in the zone for sure.”

Allie performed well and was repeatedly called back into camps throughout the next year.

Finally. Allie’s perseverance was paying off.  But as the World Cup approached, Jill had to narrow down the roster to 23 players.

In the January camp, Allie admitted she wasn’t playing to her full potential.

As US national team mainstay Tobin Heath says, “at the national team level, you can’t just be good, you have to stand-out consistently. If you have a bad day, you have to quickly let it go or it’ll break you.”

Jill called Allie into her office, and told her that they were going to go with a more experienced player and she wouldn’t make the final cut.

Allie boarded the plane devastated. Years of dedication and she was coming home empty-handed. She missed her chance. Now what?

It was a long, sad flight home. And just when Allie though that maybe she wasn’t cut out for this team after all, the itch reemerged.

The itch that verified she was still hungry for more. The itch that told her she couldn’t live with herself if she gave up now.

So it was back to work. Back to yelling at her teammates, taking extra shots after practice, and strengthening her mental toughness.

Tobin claims “every time Allie leaves the national team, she uses it as a learning opportunity. She’s not just ok with being there. She know what she has to improve on and works on it.”

Despite not making the World Cup roster, Allie’s dedication hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Allie is the all-time leader in points (most combined goals and assist for the Thorns. She’s a crucial component to the team’s offense and continuously comes up big time in clutch moments.

Yet even with consistent dominant performances, Allie consistently receives flack from social media users and her peers.

They’ll make comments questioning her ability and her attitude.

“I want to prove anyone who doubts me wrong. When I get tweets like that, I just have to laugh. Absolutely nothing has been handed to me….when my dreams come true, it will be the most satisfying achievement because I’ll know I earned it.”

Allie isn’t affected by those comments.She doesn’t care that she just turned 28 and the next World Cup cycle isn’t until another four years.

“As long as my body is functioning, I will keep going after my dreams.”

And it all comes back to the itch. The itch that grows bigger with each doubter, obstacle, and missed opportunity.

The itch that is sometimes conveyed through flamboyant hand gestures and verbal assaults.

“I’m passionate. I’m competitive. I want to win. I will do whatever it takes.”

As long as the itch remains, Allie will scream for more.

Whatever It Takes-Andrew Hawkins

August 12, 2015

Cleveland Browns wide receiver, Andrew Hawkins is the definition of relentless. Coming out of college as a “nobody”, he had a burning desire to make the NFl. Despite the odds, He made the decision to go after his dreams. He created a pseudo email account,  posed as an Toledo assistant coach, he attached clay to his heels and put weight in his pockets during Pro Day weigh-in,  he stocked Dallas Cowboy’s owner, GM, and President, Jerry Jones,  he entered a reality TV contest, he played in the CFL, he got cut from multiple teams. He did all of this and still had yet to make an NFL team.

Four years later, all of his efforts paid off and is now the leading wide receiver for the Cleveland Browns.

When you have a burning desire and the determination to do whatever it takes to reach your goals, anything can happen.

Andrew Hawkin’s two part story from The Players Tribune:

Part 1: Coming Up Short

Part 2: Whatever It Takes

The Day I met Ryan Gosling and Decided to Quit Soccer and Travel the World

Dinggg-dongggg. It’s him, at MY doorstep! Our texting conversation had my endorphins salsa-dancing all week. This morning I showered for him, even slapped on some mascara and a spritz of perfume. And now he was here! Ryan freaking Gosling!! Taking ME out to dinner! I sprung out of bed, threw on a cute, but not too cute tank top, sucked in a deep inhale and shuffled downstairs ready to be swept off my feet. I opened the door, unveiled the curtains to my pearly whites and standing before me was none other than…not Ryan. Definitely not Ryan. It wasn’t Ryan at all. It was our 60 year-old Irish neighbor. And she was here to hand me a steam cleaner that my housemates asked to borrow to wash their hardwood floors. And I was losing my mind because over the last few weeks, I overdosed on romantic films. I logged more movie-watching hours, than I had all year.

“Keep resting until you’re entirely symptom-free” the doctor said.

I felt like an iPhone 2 , 10 years old and dropped in the toilet. I could manage a walk around town, a coffee hangout, a light swim in the ocean, but one misstep and I risked unexpectedly dropping into the red zone; zapped energy, uncontrollable head pressure, earaches, and nausea. Strenuous exercises, car rides, and Showoffs revving their motorcycles sent me into the red zone.

I was tired of recharging, waiting to be in control, and just scraping by.

I needed to escape. Get away.  Break free from my “caution contents are fragile” box. Not from the pain, but from my thoughts, that were Niagara Falls flooding my brain.

I stormed down to the garage and grabbed a bike. I wasn’t supposed to bike. But I was over “supposed to.” I wasn’t meant to live life helmet strapped and bubble wrapped in bed all day.

I pedaled out to the street and hooked a left towards the sea. I didn’t know where I was going, but I didn’t care. In fact, this invigorated me. I was a rebel without a cause. Ripping off my hospital gown and whipping my greasy hair back and forth.

I arrived at the paved path along the ocean. Do I go left or right?  Two songs popped into my head: Beyonce’s “to the LEFT to the left, everything I own in a box to the left” and Beastie Boys’  “you gotta fight, for your RIGHT to parrrrrr-tayyyyyy” Beastie boys for the ‘W’ today. ‘Cause I do what I want. Take that world!

My neck muscles burned and nausea tickled the inside of my neck. Not today, body, not today.  I pedaled harder.

The sun was shining, the breeze against my face, and the sea on my left. Flocks of kids were building sand castles, body surfing, and soaking in nature’s abundance.

A smile poured across my face.

This place, Thirroul, it’s special. It grounded me. Much like the Columbia Gorge and the Black Butte of Sisters, Oregon. Maybe more.

I gazed out at the ocean to see a surfer catching a gnarly wave. Before my concussion Keelin, Paige, Carm, and I received surf lessons from a guy named Lewis. On a whim, Lewis took a semester off from acquiring his engineering major to work at a surf camp in France. For six months, he lived in a tent in the forest next to the beach. He taught campers how to surf, then used the income to travel.

When Lewis returned back home to study, he felt something lacking in his life. He asked himself when he was happiest. His mind shot back to France. So he took a semester off and taught the same surf camp, then traveled the world to Portugal, The Canary Islands and beyond (full story here).

A legendary motto to live by. I asked myself the same question:

When am I happiest?

I am happy now. By the ocean, traveling, exploring, meeting new people,  hanging with my loved ones, helping others, writing, chilling at coffee shops. experiencing new cultures, surfing, reading, learning, growing, working out, cooking, playing soccer…

I am happy playing soccer.

 But I haven’t been able to play soccer in weeks. 

I actually haven’t been able to focus solely playing soccer in awhile.

I’ve struggled with migraines, torn ligaments, digestion, and energy issues for years now.

I’m a firm believer that overcoming obstacles are a necessary component in the process of achieving goals. They are invaluable teachers and make crossing the finish line that much more rewarding.

For me, these setbacks have provided fortuitous writing opportunities:

My pregnancy scare

When I escaped from my hospital bed to watch a Chelsea Handler show at the Sydney Opera House

For two weeks straight,  I only drank a liquid supplement, which tasted like morning breath saturated in expired chicken broth

That one time I was impaled by a pole stake

With every past roadblock, I have convinced myself that once I learned my lesson and healed, then I would experience my big breakthrough.

Like before Australia, I rested and felt the best I had in a while, and was ready to “turn up”, as the cool kids say.

And then my concussion happened.

There comes a point, when these things start to pile up and you inevitably begin to question your trajectory. It’s like if you were to play a continuous game of Jenga for a year straight with friends. And every round, you are the one who pulls out the wood block that makes the entire tower come crashing down. The first few times you may attribute your defeat to luck, or lack thereof, but then after the 12th time you start to wonder if the game is rigged. Or maybe it’s just not your game. Maybe you should just accept that it’s not your game, and go to the cupboard to pick a new one.

Is soccer just not my game? 

I’ve been blessed to pursue something that has made my heart happy for twenty years. Soccer has been my BFF. The Tigger to my Pooh. The one I rely on to cheer me up when I am down in the dumps. It’s allowed me to create life-long friendships, travel the world, and impact the community. I’ve won two high school championships, I played at my dream soccer college, University of Portland, represented the U.S in the U-20 World cup and played professional soccer in my home town. But lately, soccer has been feeling like my Eeyore.

I reflected as I rode by the neighboring beach on my left.

Everyone has to stop playing eventually right? I mean, according to that NCAA commercial,“there are over 400,000 NCAA student-athletes and just about all of us will be going pro in something other than sports.” Apparently I have already defied odds. You rock Kendall. But now I’m over overcoming “health” things. I just want to play free. Maybe this is a sign it’s my time to step down. 

My entire life, I have been zeroed in on my soccer aspirations. I have clung on tightly, not letting anything stop me from reaching them. I just knew I was going to make them happen, to the point where I never took the time to examine alternative options.

But, here I am, biking along the ocean, soccer-less, yet content. So content, that I want to ride this bike forward. Forever. And not look back. I’m tired of flat tires. I want to ride and ride and ride and see things and feel things and do ‘Me’ things without incessant complications.

You know what? Maybe soccer is weighing me down. Maybe I don’t need soccer. Maybe…maybe I should open up a cafe. I could offer acai bowls, coffee, matcha lattes. All the freshest most organic ingredients. The ambiance, a compilation of all my favorite coffee shops. Super chill-vibed. Open, airy. Natural lighting. Massive windows. Super earthy with succulents and recycled timber floors. Fresh sunflowers at every table. Happy people only. No extra charge for almond milk or coconut milk! Did you hear me!? No extra charge for milk substitutes!!!  You’re welcome. You pay for the person behind you, so you feel like you are giving to others. Talk about a cup half full with gratitude. 

My bike speed doubled with each erratic thought. My neck beat to the bass of a worn-down dance club, but I didn’t care.

Or what about a fro-yo shop!? A coconut frozen yogurt shop. In Portland. With healthy toppings like kale chips, andHoney Mama’s fudge bars, and sprouted almonds! Keep Portland weird. Maybe this place would get so much hype that Ryan Gosling would come visit.

Forty-minutes past since I left my house. My energy now matched that of a human who chugged three consecutive Red Bulls. I didn’t want this ride to end.

Wait, hold your horses Kendall, I want to travel more. I could follow Lewis’ path and teach a surf camp. But only one problem, I’m a newbie surfer.  I could create a soccer surf camp. Go to South America. I need to brush up on my spanish first, but that’s what Duolingo is for!  I could recruit Rachel Quon and we could use our spanish speaking skills to teach soccer during the camps, and hire some surfers to teach surfing. And then we could travel the world!!!

The possibilities are endless!! 

I don’t need soccer!!!

Right as I reached this epiphany, I hit the red zone hard. Each pedal lowered me further down from cloud nine. It was time to go home. I found a nearby train station, and rode back to my apartment.

That evening, my roommates arrived home from work and I filled them in on my grand plan.

After I finished my explanation, they looked at me as if I was the cousin of an extraterrestrial.

They speculated that I might be having these emotions because I’m in a vulnerable, healing state and suggested I think my plans over for a bit before buying my plane ticket to South America.

They had a point.

I am healing, maybe instead I should open up a wellness center on a Caribbean island.  With yoga and meditation with eco-friendly floating mats in the ocean and live Trevor Hall music. 

I elected to mull my thoughts over.

A week past, then two, and I was feeling better. Actually, a lot better. To the point where I was ready to try my first real workout. I opted for a bodyweight circuit.

I ventured over to the nearby park, plugged in Aloe Blacc’s “The Man” (still waiting for “The Woman” rendition)  and performed some dynamic stretching.

Now, it was time for my strides. I started with an easy jog down the field. I felt a little light-headed, but nothing terrible. The next stride, I slowly accelerated into a run. And it was as if each of my steps were orchestrated to the symphony of soccer memories.

I had flashbacks to the moment my high school team won the school’s first ever soccer championship in penalty kicks, My arms flailing, rushing the field, pouring ice water over our coach’s head.

My first game back after tearing my ACL. Pure bliss stepping onto Merlo Field in front of University of Portland’s rowdy villa drum squad.

Waking up at 5:00am to get in one last drenched-in-sweat workout before catching a flight to Australia.

The Thorns pre-game locker room. Kat Williamson twerking to Lil Wayne. Allie Long kicking a ball against the the couch. Michelle Betos foam rolling against the refrigerator.  Everyone preparing in their own way.

The ravenous Rose City Riveters erupting in unison after a victory.

The higher my heart rate rose, the faster the images came pouring in.

I was fired up. These images paper-shredded my bike ride visualizations. My cafe and coconut yogurt shop were now torn to pieces.

I love soccer. I love soccer!! I love soccer and I don’t care who knows it!!  What the heck was I thinking giving up soccer??

All of my setbacks in life have strengthened me and have been necessary components to my personal evolution.

Just because I could be happy without soccer, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have soccer in my life. Few things give me the unadulterated happiness of playing the game. That bliss is worth chasing. I don’t have to wait until I’m back on the field to be happy. I can take off my eat-sleep-breath soccer blinders, enjoy the process, and trust that life is working for me and not against me.

Soccer, after all was the very reason I was here in Australia, in a beautiful beach town mesmerized by the land and people.  And it’s the reason I got to go on a date with Ryan Gosling. Not literally. Figuratively. The literal will come when Ryan sees the New York Times rave review write-up of my coconut frozen yogurt shop and he contacts me eager to try it. And then I’ll say “cool ya if you want to I guess”, and we’ll go grab a casual bite to eat beforehand. At my cafe, of course. And then I’ll find out he surfs and wants to join in on the South America adventure and we’ll book our ticket and fly out the next day. Alright, maybe that doesn’t happen. But that’s okay too. I can be happy with or without Ryan anyways.

Arrow Liver: Professional Soccer Player, Allie Long

Watch just one Portland Thorn’s game and I guarantee you’ll witness Allie Long fling her hand up in the air in disagreement with the referee and vehemently scream at a teammate for not passing her the ball.

As her teammates, we expect and embrace this passionate display. It’s the Allie Long who is equally hard on her teammates as she is on herself. It’s the Allie Long who wants to win so bad, she’ll do whatever means necessary. It’s the Allie Long who shows up big time in the clutch.

As with most soccer-enthused young girls, Allie dreamt of playing in the World Cup for the U.S National team.  When she received her first call-up at 22, Allie appeared on track to achieve her aspirations. But in her first training session, she suffered an MCL injury.

Experiencing that elite environment, even for such a short stint, solidified Allie’s desire to play at the highest level. She couldn’t see herself doing anything else and was willing to do everything in her power to get back into camp.

Year after year passed, and Allie had yet to receive another call back. Until last year, at age 26, when Allie came off her second consecutive stellar season with the Thorns.

With the World Cup just around the corner, Allie’s dedication and perseverance seemed to be paying off. Yet, when the final roster was selected, Allie was left off the list.

After a long, heartbreaking plane ride home, Allie knew she couldn’t let this define her. She was still the same Allie Long; relentless, passionate, driven, with the ultimate dream of representing her country on the world stage.

Allie knew that there’s nothing else she’d rather be doing and she exited the plane even hungrier than before.

Allie is an NCAA National champion, an NSWL champion and the Portland Thorns all-time  points (goals and assists) leader. A highly accomplished career, but incomplete for her standards.  Allie doesn’t care how long it takes, as long as her body can handle it, she’s committed to turning her dreams of playing in a World Cup and Olympics into a reality.

Allie is an Arrow Liver.

UPDATE: Allie was selected to represent the US women’s national team in the 2016 Rio Olympics. Allie is an Olympian. Perserverance pays off.

Name: Allie

Age:  27

Hometown: Northport, New York

Profession: Professional soccer player

Years playing: 21 (6 professionally)

What was your first thought when you woke up this morning?

I woke up at 5:30 the trucks were making noise and I thought leave me alone.

What is your morning routine?

I wake up and have some breakfast. Oatmeal is my go-to. Starbucks is underneath my apartment so I always go there. Then, I walk to practice and listen to my music. That’s when I get in my zone.

What did you love most about where you grew up?

That water surrounded me. I loved being so close to the beach.

What is the best advice you’ve ever been given?

I really like J.K Rowlings commencement speech at Harvard on the importance of failure. She talks about how she needed to fail in order to succeed. I agree. You learn more from your failures than your successes.

When I didn’t make the World Cup team, Harry (her nickname for Tobin Heath) sent me a letter that said  “It aint over, it’s just the beginning.” It meant a lot and made me realize I can become even stronger from this setback.

Who is your definition of successful? 

Anyone who sets a goal and goes through anything to achieve it, no matter what it is in life. Someone like Kobe.

Why do you do what you do?

It’s my passion. I just love soccer and the process of becoming a better player. It keeps me focused and always wanting more. I know I have to be patient because achieving your goals sometimes takes longer than anticipated.

Is this where you thought you’d end up?

Yes. It’s my only goal to do what i’m doing and hopefully make the U.S national team.

How are you different than the average?

I’m never okay with average. I don’t want to be just a professional soccer player. I want to reach my full potential, inspire people, and be a role model.

What habit contributes the most to your success? 

I always put myself in uncomfortable situations. In training, I try to do every drill as fast as I can so that in a game, its slower for me. Sometimes in practice, I catch myself and say “Dang that wasn’t as fast as I can”.  I am hard on myself because I know my potential.

How do you spend your free time?

With Harry and Alex [Morgan]. I like to relax. I love the beach. I like to swim. I love watching soccer and seeing the best of the best play. I also like to read and trying to learn Spanish.

What has been your biggest “failure”? How have you overcome this setback?

Not making the World Cup team. I cried the whole flight home. I realized that all I can do is learn from what happened and set my next goal, which is the Olympics. I just have to keep getting better and striving for the next level.

What has been your most rewarding accomplishment? 

My first cap (appearance) with the National team. Stepping on the field for USA was really special. Winning a National Championship at University of North Carolina was also up there.

What do you wish you knew as a kid? 

I wish I trained more. If I trained, it was usually with my mom. I would have liked to have more friends to train with who liked soccer as much as I did.  I wish I matured quicker and knew that doing extra would help further me on in my career.

What is one moment that makes you laugh every time you think about?

When I was 7, I was climbing over a high fence and slipped, but my shorts hooked onto the fence, fell down to my ankles, and caught my fall. So I was stuck, dangling headfirst from the fence in my underwear.  I was so embarrassed at the time, but my mom couldn’t stop laughing. I saved the shorts after because I thought they were lucky and saved my life.

What’s your dream meal? 

Chips and guacamole. I could eat chips and guac all day.

Who are three people you’d ask to dine with you?

Kobe, Iniesta, Muhammad Ali.

If you could trade lives with one person for an entire day who would it be?

Messi. I want to be in his brain when he plays.

If you could only keep five possessions what would they be? 

My engagement ring, The bible Harry gave me, my iPad, chapstick, my cellphone

What skill would you like to learn? 

I’d like to be fluent in Spanish

If you weren’t playing soccer, what would you want to do with your life? 

I’d like to be an ESPN anchor.

What is your favorite mobile app? 

Twitter

FOR MORE ON ALLIE LONG: Allie Long and her Resting Itch Face

Life Lessons-Hand-written letters to a son from a father who's life was taken by cancer

An 8 year-old's father passed away from cancer at 27 and left behind hand-written letters for him to open during certain big moments in his life. All I can say is "wow":

When I'm Gone-Rafael Zoehler

https://medium.com/@rafaelzoehler/when-i-m-gone-f1611ceb759f  

The Key Ingredient to Success: A Honey Baked Ham

At age 8, my mom scheduled an impromptu family beach trip. I politely informed her that the trip didn’t fit my itinerary. I am all about family time, but the U.S women’s National team was playing in the World Cup and I couldn’t afford to miss a minute of the action.  My mom assured me that the games were televised at our beach house, but that the games kicked off in the middle of the night due to the time difference in China. I didn’t care if they played at 3am, it was my duty to cheer my team to victory.

We struck a deal. I’d attend our family trip so long as my mom promised to wake me up 1 minute (and no earlier) before each U.S game. She agreed. We piled into our white Suburban and headed to the beach. Each night, somewhere between 2:00-4:00am my mom crept into my room and shook me awake. For the next two hours, my eyes were glued to our 12 inch by 12 inch television in admiration. After the final whistle blew, I sunk my head into my pillow, and dreamt of playing in red, white, and blue.

The World Cup final fortunately aired during the daytime, so my whole family spectated the historical event. I distinctly remember, Brandi Chastain netting the game-winning pk, simultaneously ripping her jersey off and sliding to her knees. Making history.  An indescribable surge rippled through my body like I’d never felt before. I want that. And that’s when my whole life started revolving around soccer.

A few weeks later, I was scouring my favorite clothing store, Nike, when I spotted a shirt that defined my current existence.  A fairly simple white garment, adorned with a soccer ball, but its content stole the show.  Across the front read “I don’t play soccer, I live it.” I tore the shirt off the hanger and flung it over my existing outfit. An impeccable fit. I knew Nike handcrafted that shirt specifically for me.  And I expressed my gratitude by wearing it morning, day, and night.  Each rip and mud-stain acquired from playing soccer only added to it’s authenticity.

“I don’t play soccer I live it” became my motto. I capitalized on any opportunity to transcribe the words onto another object. A pin at my elementary school arts and crafts fair. A plate from the classic “paint your own ceramics” birthday party.

My grandma lived in Bend, Oregon, surrounded by farmland. My friends and I often biked around the country roads and anytime we came across farm animals we named them. One day, we spotted 7 llamas. Can you guess what I labeled them?  “I”, “don’t, “play”. “soccer”, “I”, “Live”, and “it”. Obviously.

My infatuation continued into the following year. Every birthday, my grandma hosts  a celebratory dinner for the “birthday child.” On my special 9th birthday, I dawned my Mia Hamm, number 9 jersey. With the inception of our “number 9” connection, Mia now ranked in the top 3 of my favorite soccer players, behind, Tiffany Milbrett and Brandi Chastain.

After dinner, I opened a few presents. I doubted anyone would beat my grandma’s gift; a glow in the dark soccer ball. But my Aunt T and Uncle Gary’s present gave the ball a run for its money.  I ripped the wrapping paper off the package and uncovered a slab of honey baked ham with the number 9 taped onto it. They gifted me a “Mia Ham.”

My childhood consisted of late night juggling sessions, perfecting the “rainbow”, competing in made-up games with friends such as who could kick the ball over the highest telephone wire at my nearby park, watching behind-the-scenes youtube videos of the National team. In middle school, I discovered the racquetball courts in our athletic club and my life changed forever. I ignored the sign clearly stating “these courts are for racquetball use ONLY!” and kicked the ball against the wall until the management lady came in and scolded me. I’d act as if I was unaware of the rule, apologize, and then come back again the next day.  I didn’t play soccer, I lived it.

Parents often ask me what their children need to do to take their game to the next level. What skill should they learn? What club team should they play for? What about colleges?

I give them my two cents, but the truth is, nothing I tell them matters. There’s no one-size-fits-all recipe for success. Every elite athlete has a unique story. They come from different hometowns, club teams, social classes, and experience their own setbacks.

But amongst this class remains one common denominator; an obsession. They feel something deep within. A calling. When people discover that “one thing” that brings them an indescribable feeling, it naturally consumes their thoughts. It becomes ingrained into who they are as a person. It creates an unwavering hunger that propels them to focus and commit to mastering it.

I recently toured the Stumptown Coffee roasters headquarters in Portland. There is a man whose occupation is to sample the coffee imported from their other roasting locations to ensure quality and consistency. After 15 years of studying and being a barista, he’s apparently developed one of the most sophisticated coffee palettes in the world. He literally drinks java for a living. A dream career, undoubtedly spearheaded by obsession.

For me, soccer gives me those fiery sensations. My infatuation goes beyond the game itself. I love exploring the cities we play at, learning and reading during recovery time, beating personal fitness records, and meeting equally passionate like-minded people.

Whenever I face a setback in my career, I always think back to my childhood. Blasting balls against the chain-linked baseball fence at the park. Juggling with my friends until we surpassed a set number. The whistle blowing, tuning out all outside factors and playing instinctually. This raw passion ultimately led me to where I am today and is the reason I am still hungrier for more.

Parents often ask me what their children need to do to take their game to the next level. What skill should they learn? What club team should they play for? What about colleges?

    I give them my two cents, but the truth is, nothing I tell them matters. There’s no one-size-fits-all recipe for success. Every elite athlete has a unique story. They come from different hometowns, club teams, social classes, and experience their own setbacks.

But amongst this class remains one common denominator; an obsession. They feel something deep within. A calling. When people discover that “one thing” that brings them an indescribable feeling, it naturally consumes their thoughts. It becomes ingrained into who they are as a person. It creates an unwavering hunger that propels them to focus and commit to mastering it.

I recently toured the Stumptown Coffee roasters headquarters in Portland. There is a man whose occupation is to sample the coffee imported from their other roasting locations to ensure quality and consistency. After 15 years of studying and being a barista, he’s apparently developed one of the most sophisticated coffee palettes in the world. He literally drinks java for a living. A dream career, undoubtedly spearheaded by obsession.

For me, soccer gives me those fiery sensations. My infatuation goes beyond the game itself. I love exploring the cities we play at, learning and reading during recovery time, beating personal fitness records, and meeting equally passionate like-minded people.

Whenever I face a setback in my career, I always think back to my childhood. Blasting balls against the chain-linked baseball fence at the park. Juggling with my friends until we surpassed a set number. The whistle blowing, tuning out all outside factors and playing instinctually. This raw passion ultimately led me to where I am today and is the reason I am still hungrier for more.

I don’t play soccer, I live it.

"How One Kid's Disability Will Change the Way We All Put on Sneakers"

16 year-old Matthew Walzer sent a letter into a Nike CEO calling attention his inability to tie Nike shoes due to his cerebral palsy. Nike responded and the result is awesome.

Full story by Gerald Flores of Sole Collector: How One Kid's Disability Will Change the Way We All Put on Sneakers

Arrow Liver: Professional Soccer Player, Rachel Van Hollebeke

As the nickname suggests, The Buehldozer aka Rachel Van Hollebeke (maiden name Buehler), is a force to be reckoned on the soccer pitch. Her successful soccer career started at a young age. Rachel grew up in Del Mar, California, a 7 minute walk away from the beach, in a neighborhood full of mostly boys a few years older than her. A lover of outdoor activities, she’d always follow the boys around and do whatever they did, which was how she was first introduced to soccer. Coaches took notice of Rachel’s feisty demeanor and she was called into the youth national teams. Rachel continued her soccer dominance while playing at Stanford University, where she also majored in biology with dreams of becoming a doctor. In college she met her now husband, Bobby (they are one of the cutest, nicest, happiest, and most loving couples I’ve ever witnessed). Once Rachel graduated, she received a call-up with the full national team. However, she was not asked back afterwards. At this point in her life, Rachel assumed the coach wasn’t interested. With no professional league in place, Rachel diverted her attention to pursuing her passion of becoming a doctor. She applied to medical school and was ready to take her MCAT, when she received an unexpected call from the full team coach asking her to attend national camp again.  She seized the opportunity and a year later she was on the Olympic podium with a gold medal around her neck. Eight years later, Rachel has had to defer medical school numerous times in order to fully commit to her soccer obligations. As an NWSL champion, 2 time Olympic gold medalist, a World Cup silver medalist, and with over 100 caps for the U.S national team, it’s safe to say putting medical school on hold was a solid choice.

Off the field, Rachel’s personality is significantly different than her hard-nosed, no-nonsense style of defending. She’s a family girl, loves to learn, and is genuinely attentive to every person she meets. Rachel’s authentic positivity makes her a joy to be around and this attribute has played a large role in her ability to overcome any obstacle that comes her way.

Rachel has had an undoubtedly successful career, but sh intends to take  her accomplishments beyond the soccer field. After Rachel hangs up the boots, she still plans on becoming a doctor and starting a family of her own. With massive dreams and an even larger heart, the best is yet to come.

Rachel is an Arrow Liver.

Name: Rachel Van Hollebeke

Age: 29 (30 in August)

Hometown: Del Mar, California

Profession: professional soccer player (future doctor)

Years playing: 22 years (8 professionally)

What was your first thought when you woke up this morning?

(Waking up in the Sheraton, following a long day of travel): Where am I? I wonder what hotel breakfast is like.

What is your morning routine?

Bobby (her husband) gets up 5:30-6:15, so I try to wake up not too long after between 6:45-7:15. I usually tidy the house-do the dishes, laundry. clean up the house-then, I eat breakfast, usually steel cut oats I’ve prepared the night before or eggs and toast. Afterwards, I do some sort of work in the am. Sometimes I answer a few emails, I’ll study spanish or biology, or do some sort of project I am working on. And then I usually do a little bit of stretching on my slant board before I leave for practice.

What did you love most about where you grew up?

Well gosh. A lot of different things. Del Mar is just a really gorgeous place. My house was a 7 minute walk from the beach. I’d do a lot of hiking and outdoor stuff that made me fall in love with nature. I grew up in a neighborhood with four families with kids around my age. We’d roam from yard to yard playing tag, soccer, and all different sports. It was such an awesome way to grow up. I also loved living so close to my relatives.

What is the best advice you’ve ever been given?

A sports psychologist I saw years ago, who was my mentor at the time, told me to think rationally and not emotionally.  This helped me to not be so hard on myself.  If I made a mistake in a game,  I’d have a strong emotional response to it after the game. This advice helped me quiet my immediate response, think about the mistake in a more logical way.

Who is your definition of successful? 

My grandma. I ultimately define success as happiness. I felt like my grandma was very content with her life. The best part was she was surrounded by people that she loved. No matter what my grandma had, she lived modestly and felt like everything was special. We’d go to Rubio’s and she’d order the “gourmet shrimp tacos” and she’d think that they were the best tacos ever. That’s how she approached everything. Her grateful perspective had a lot of influence on me. I want to be like that.

Why do you do what you do?

Because I love playing soccer.  As I’ve gotten older, I think more about why I continue to play.  It’s because there’s a feeling of freedom I get when I’m in the moment. I love those moments whenyou’re not thinking and playing on instinct. And I love being on a team. It’s very unique and I really value the strong special bonds I’ve formed.

Is this where you thought you’d end up?

Not really. I really thought I was going to go straight to med school after college. I hadn’t made the National Team at that point, I kind of thought it was over. There wasn’t a league, so I took my MCAT and was preparing for more schooling. Then I got the call-up and kept having to postpone my MCAT.

How are you different than the average?

I think I am naturally a positive person. I wouldn’t say that’s everyone’s natural disposition. I feel like I’m pretty lucky. I also have this need to be very prepared. That’s part of my drive and how I get confidence; knowing I’ve done everything in my power to prepare for for the task at hand.

How do you spend your free time? 

Bobby and I will hike and get outdoors as much as possible. We love hiking, camping, and we’ve even done a bit of mountain biking. I’m also always studying something, whether it’s Spanish or biology. I like to keep my brain active.  I love reading for pleasure, especially nonfiction, sci-fi and fantasy.

What has been your biggest challenge and how have you managed this challenge?  

Not making the World Cup Team was tough. I had an accumulation of injuries this past year that  set me back a bit, but I wouldn’t say it was a failure at all. I feel like I did everything I could to get back and healthy and make the roster. I feel so fortunate to even have that opportunity.

What has been your most rewarding accomplishment? 

Getting Married to Bobby.

What do you wish you knew as a kid? 

I’m not sure I wish I knew anything different. I feel like I’m glad certain things went wrong so that I could learn from them. However, I do wish I wasn’t so intense in school, and loosened up at times.

What’s your dream meal? 

I love artichokes. They are by far my favorite food.  The journey of getting to the heart of the artichoke is the best thing ever. I’ll put a little butter on the heart. I also really like halibut and rice pilaf.

Who are three people you’d ask to dine with you?

I’d ask for four people. And choose my mom, dad, sister and Bobby. They are the people I have the most fun with and it’s not very often we are all together.

What is the weirdest scar you have and how did you get it?

I got in a bike crash when I was kid and the chainring stuck into my inner thigh. It looked as if I was attacked by an animal. I always told people I got bit by a shark and the kids actually believed me.

If you could trade lives with one person for an entire day who would it be?

Obama. I would never ever ever want to be a president, but they have so much responsibility and I’m curious about what crazy secret stuff goes on in our country that we don’t know about.  Hopefully it would be a day where nothing really bad or serious happened.

If you could only keep five possessions what would they be? 

My wedding ring, my medals,  photo album, Vitamix, my computer.

What skill would you like to learn and why? 

I would love to be able to play the guitar really well.

What is your favorite mobile app? 

Duolingo- It’s an app that helps you learn a language. It’s simple, but great for helping me brush up on my Spanish.

That One Time I got Impaled by a Pole Stake

Playing Sky Blue FC this weekend brought back a surge of memories from living in New Jersey during the previous two NWSL seasons. Any time I revisit a place, it inevitably brings back an influx of memories. In Jersey, there’s one particular moment that will forever be ingrained in both my mind and body: That one time I was impaled by a pole stake.

On a blustery Tuesday afternoon, May 13th, 2014, to be exact, my teammates and I rolled up to training. The field was divided into four sectors for an inter-squad 3v3 tournament. Each field was lined with cones, and had poles acting as goal posts. These particular poles were plastic, but had metal rods at the ends that were used to stake them into the ground.

As professional athletes, we live for tournaments like these, and when our coach blew the game-starting whistle it was all business. After 20 minutes of play, my team had secured two victories, and we were now honing in on our third. Up one goal with less than a minute left in the game, we confidently possessed the ball around our opposition.  Suddenly though, we made an errant pass.The other team, quickly grabbed hold of the ball and fired a long range shot that was on target to roll between the poles for a goal. In a final attempt to stop the ball from crossing the goal line, I slid my body down to the muddy ground. Due to the wet surface, I slid much further than anticipated and my momentum drove me through the pole, snapping it in half and taking it out of the ground with me. Mid-slide, I felt a sharp sensation. At first, I thought it was simply my heart’s disappointment in my failed effort to save the goal. But then I glanced down at the exact point of pain to see that the pole had lodged into the back of my thigh.

“What the!?…” Before I could even end my exclamation with an explicit, I yanked the pole out of my leg and blood instantly gushed up in the air. I kid you not, the blood shot straight up like it does in the movies. My teammates came rushing over and Taka, our assistant coach, immediately applied pressure to the wound with his hand. Meanwhile, I stared intently at the ground, practiced my deep breathing exercises and continuously repeated “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay!”

My teammate, Sophie Schmidt, was standing above consoling me, “It’s not that bad Kendall.” I couldn’t see her face, but apparently she was shaking her head left to right with her eyebrow’s worriedly raised. Regardless, her soothing voice made me feel at ease.

After the bleeding finally simmered down, my teammate, Maddie Thompson, drove me to the hospital.

After an examination, they decided against stitching up the deep wound to avoid risk of infection. Instead, they x-rayed the wounded area, cleaned out the divot, gave me a little rabies-prevention shot, and sent me on my merry way. After a few very sore days of rest, I was back at it with a newfound appreciation and reminder of some important life lessons:

Role with the punches and poles

It’s always ideal to have a plan in place of what we want to accomplish and where we want to go in life. Having a well thought-out system allows us to stay focused and reminds us of the reason behind our actions. Yet, undoubtedly, situations aren’t going to go as anticipated. Things will get in the way. In our last game, for instance, it was the ref who got in my way.

If we let these unexpected happenings bring us down, then we are preventing ourselves from reaching our potential. For me, I’d still be impaled and/or eating the turf at Providence Park. Nothing good happens when we remain stagnant after a setback.

It’s crucial to control what we can control and make the best of every situation, even the difficult ones. As the old saying goes, “roll with the punches”- in my case, the poles.

Pull the stake out 

Evidently it’s not the most intelligent decision to immediately pull out objects that are imbedded into your body part because it could cause you to bleed out and die or something like that.  I’m sorry, but if I see something lodged into my leg that doesn’t belong, it’s coming out STAT. In the heat of the moment, I acted on my instinct.  When we listen to our gut, rather than analyze situations, we are acting in our most authentic form. Even if it’s not the “right” choice, trusting my instincts always leaves me without any regrets. If our instinct happens to be wrong, we can learn from it and adjust in the future.

Stab Your Fear

Before this incident I had a legitimate fear of being stabbed. I assume and hope most people have a general opposition to impalement, but this was honestly one of my bigger fears in life. Yet, now that it happened, it honestly wasn’t as bad as I thought. CAUTION: I AM NOT RECOMMENDING VOLUNTARILY STABBING YOURSELF TO OVERCOME A FEAR. but I truly believe the best way to overcome a fear is to face it head on. Whether it be public speaking, asking someone on a date, or standing up for what we believe in, the more we do that very thing that scares us, the more comfortable we will feel doing it. Most often, it’s never as bad as we anticipated, and it’s often incredibly invigorating afterwards. I am now no longer afraid of sharp objects. Again, please don’t go stabbing yourself, but rather, stab your fear.

A year has passed and I have a beautiful little scar on the back of my thigh. It’s a reminder that there is always a lesson to be learned, even in the most ridiculous situations.  Before you get discouraged from an unexpected happening, stay strong and  and think about what’s at stake (pun unintended). You could be piercing (pun slightly-intended) your dreams. It’s important you stab (ok I lied, all these puns are intended) your fears.  For your stake and mine (pun fully intended), trust your gut.  Alright I apologize, all these jabs are undermining the true points of this story. Learn from everything, for heaven stakes!

Carli Lloyd epitomizes mental toughness. The bigger the game, the higher she steps up her game. In the single-most dominate performance in World Cup history, Carli netted a hat trick and led her team to a World Championship. Carli has dedicated 12 years of her life to becoming the most dominate player in the world. After the World Cup final, it's hard to argue against it. Carli is as relentless as they come:

Predicting Carli Lloyd by:Jeff Kassouf

From Rejection to World Champions

Every elite athlete to go through some setback to get to where they are today. The US Women’s national team members are no different. This article  by Gwendolyn Oxenham, mentions players who didn’t make a squad, but used it as fuel to work even harder to reach their goals. Key takeaway: If you have a dream, don’t let any person, team, or circumstance stop you from achieving it:

USA v. Japan: These Six U.S. Stars Were Rejected From Youth Teams. It Made Them Great.

Always Be YOU

https://youtu.be/HbigxhcT3mQ