Dear Younger Me

A recent research project led me to learn more about RED-S (Relative Energy Deficiency in Sport), a medical condition in athletes who underfuel. Because I experienced RED-S at the end of eighth grade, the project reminded me of what I’ve overcome since then.

During my research, I came across two personal essays called “Dear Younger Me,” one by pro runner Lauren Fleshman and one by NCAA all-American Karis Jochen. Both letters resonated with me deeply, and they were so inspiring to read. At the same time, they made me realize that my experience with RED-S is sadly not unique. I then felt inspired to write my own letter to self-reflect and most of all encourage those who have a similar experience. The words that I’ve written for myself are words that I wish every young athlete could hear.

Dear younger me,

I know where you are tonight. You’re snuggled under your covers, too excited to sleep because today has been the perfect day. Today you ran your first cross-country race of eighth grade, and you placed third. And then you got to go to swim practice and show your teammates the number written on your hand in Sharpie.

The league officials had written your racing number on your hand before your race, the perfect race. Every time you wash your hands, you hope the number doesn’t rub off. Even after soaking in chlorine, the ink is still there.

Now your hair still wreaks of chlorine as you lie in bed, but you don’t mind. It reminds you of your perfect day in the pool–backstroke day, your favorite. You were the fastest.

Tonight, you’re reflecting on a day that you earned. After running laps into those blazing summer afternoons and swimming laps into those late summer sunsets, you earned this. After watching Molly Seidel place third in the Olympics at Tokyo, you got your own third place.

I want you to savor this moment. It won’t last forever.

Don’t ride your laurels. The laurel always fades.

The number Sharpied on your hand will fade.

You’ll see so many numbers fade. Your weight on the scale will go down and your times on the track will go up.

You’re so scared of losing. Fear causes you to train too hard.

It’s going to hurt. I know you’ve started eighth grade strong, but by the end of it, you won’t even be able to jog a mile. Come spring, you’ll place last in your track meets. You’ll have to quit swim team before the school year ends. You’ll have to quit running for some time, too.

You’ll become acquainted with letter combinations like RED-S (Relative Energy Deficiency in Sport) and IDA (Iron-Deficiency Anemia). Letters written on yourself in what seems like invisible ink, only now it’s too visible.

The ink always fades. Numbers and letters–They can’t define you. But at this moment, it will seem like they do.

Years from now, you’ll look at old pictures of yourself and wonder how you let this happen to your body.

I wish I could tell you to pack another protein bar in your swim bag, but that isn’t going to save you. Some lessons have to be learned the hard way.

It’s going to be hard. Later, in high school, you’ll have to pay for this in illnesses and injuries.

But you will run in high school. And you will run faster in high school. You’ll get to run twice as much as you do right now. You’ll run at bigger races, and you’ll still get the chance to place third. At your first race, you’ll place second. Later on, you’ll even win.

By the time you win, you’ll treasure it because you know that these moments don’t last forever. But the memories will always last, you’ll also know.

Please treasure the memories that you’re making right now. Enjoy your time in the pool while you still can. Enjoy spending time with your friends in swimming and running. Stick with running and you’ll get to make many more friends in the sport.

The people will make the journey that much better, but don’t hold onto their praise too tightly. Like your speed and strength, their praise ebbs and flows.

You will see people come and go. Focus on the ones who stay.

Your current coach and science teacher will stay. She’ll see what you’re doing to yourself, and she’ll save you.

You will get her as a teacher again your senior year, and the recurrence will remind you that life goes in circles.

Life goes in circles, just like running around the track. You will pass the same mountaintops again and again.

Dear younger me, please enjoy the mountaintop tonight. It won’t last forever.

The valley won’t last forever, either. Remember that.

The valley will test your limits. It will bring you to your knees.

But it will teach you to feed your body and feed your soul.

Please, open your pantry. Open your Bible.

You won’t open either enough.

It’s by not eating enough bread that you’ll learn that man shall not live by bread alone.

Yet you will also learn the importance of nourishing your body. See, your body is a gift, a temple, bought for a price.

One day you will nourish yourself enough to see the muscles on your legs grow, feel them carry you up mountains that you never imagined reaching.

The day you find out that your anemia is gone, you will run to the top of a mountain. The one that overlooks your neighborhood, the one that you pass with every lap around the local track. Just wait until you get to see the view.

Love,

Lana four years down the road ✨

“And he humbled you and let you hunger and fed you with manna. . . that he might make you know that man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord.”

~ Deuteronomy 8:3, ESV

“ Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, ²⁰ for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.”

~ 1 Corinthians 6:19-20, ESV