Fight

Yesterday, I had the best race of my entire life.

Yesterday, I raced for the last time with Ithaca Crew.

Today, as I sat surrounded by my crew family, I was handed a popsicle stick with my last name written on it in sharpie. Then, I burst into tears.

That popsicle stick attaches to a board where line-ups are scattered every day at practice. Staring at that popsicle stick, I knew then that it was really over. I have rowed in the Tavelli for the last time. I have heard the roar of SLINGSHOT for the last time. And it feels like my heart is on the ground being stomped on.

I was fine my freshman year. A little lost, unhappy with my major, and unsure of who I was, but still fine. I thought that this was just how it was, how it was supposed to be. I was so, so wrong.

Crew taught me how to fail and how to fall and get back up. It taught me discipline. It taught me what pain was. It taught me what love was. It taught me how to fight for what I wanted. And now, it's teaching me what loss really feels like. I am normally very good at sentimental posts. But this almost means too much to me to put it into words. It has made me so, so happy. It has made me happier than just about anything I have ever done.

It hurts so badly to leave this behind. It is so scary to leave this wonderful family behind for the unknown world beyond it. I am not ready, but I have to be.

But I know this: I cannot live life without having an oar in my hands again. I cannot live life without motion and the mental clarity that comes with it. I will run and I will erg and I will find a way to watch the sunrise over the water until my body give out. At times of great transition, I think we need to make promises to ourselves. I promise to be an athlete. It may be naive, but I promise to keep the passion that pushes me towards politics. College is a bubble. It's a beautiful, messy bubble and I know there are things that must be left behind. But I will take what I can and fight for it.