Athletes...compete

We are all athletes - each of us who runs, walks, swims, skates, cycles, rows, skis, bowls, hits, kicks, lifts or flips, and scores.

And the word athlete does have a romantic, albeit humble, origin. It is through this humility that true athleticism can touch all.

The Greek word 'athletes' originates from Latin, 'athleta' and 'athlein', which literally means to "compete for  a prize".

As athletes of various shapes, sizes, speeds and specialities, we all compete for prizes and, in one sense, perhaps an ultimate prize. 

As we grow and evolve  as athletes we learn that the prizes we compete for are no longer caught up in podiums and places; nor times and trophies; nor medals and muscles; nor ribbons, and ranting and raving. 

It is in the afterglow of competition and achievement, and on the reflection of a journey that started well before the starting line - somewhere way back with the courage to say I can and will do this - and on the journey, one step after another, km after km, week after week, year after year - amongst angst, sweat, joy and tears - we discover those prizes. 

Those prizes come from the battle within - testing, probing and challenging your limits; getting up when you fall down; going again, and again; trekking a new path; saying no to the little voice inside; showing the nay-sayers - going where you've never been before, learning about yourself and, when the time calls, leaving that self behind. That is the ultimate score.

If competition is the basis for athleticism, we may ask the question 'what is competition?' Competition isn't solely competing for places, podiums, or prizes against others. It is you and I competing with, around and beside others, and at time against others - striving toward the same ends, striving together.

Competition comes from Latin 'competere', made up of com- (coming together) and -petere (to strive).

As athletes we strive together; we strive, not in rivalry or opposition, but as a community.

These athletes, these competitors are the people I coach.

The athlete in us all...

As a school teacher I often got asked, "What do you teach?"

Cheekily, I'd reply "I teach young people!"

"Yes, sure, but what to you teach them?"

"I like to think I teach them positive values and behaviours to use in different contexts, and that everyone has the right to be heard and prosper."

I'd smile knowing what was coming...

"I do that by teaching skills, knowledge and appreciation through positive experiences with physical activity, maths concepts, and scientific principles...I teach Physical Education, Maths and Science."

I haven't taught for a couple of years now. I coach. Again.

When I tell people that, of course, I get asked, "What do you coach?"

Of course, "I coach people. I coach athletes."

And the circle completes itself.

That said, good teaching and good coaching have much in common. They're both about building relationships and journeys - providing positive experiences (physical, social and emotional skills; sessions, activities) for others to develop or improve. Their journey: to reflect upon where they've been, their past; to become more aware of where they are, their present; then aspire, plan and build towards their future.

But what type of athletes do I coach?

Arguably, there are many types' of athletes: amateur, professional, commercial, weekend, casual and so on.

People want to hear that I coach football, soccer or volleyball or basketball, or track-and-field, or, god-forbid, runners and triathletes. I've been there, done that. I don't coach the sport any more. The skills, rules and physical capacities to participate, compete and win in their sport are tools for coaching the person. Thus, I coach people.

To me, we are all athletes...each and every one of us who runs (walks, swims, skates, cycles, rows, skis, bowls, hits, kicks, lifts, or flips).

I used to think that the word athlete may come from a Greek or Roman God and that his etymology laid in a romantic Latin stem: someone like, say, Athletik or Athlus or Athlaton. Alas, no!

The word's origin is more humble. It doesn't sit atop a dias. It has no impropriety toward immortality. And for the better, as it brings it's roots undeniably closer to me and to you, to all.