The Pain of a Wrestler

Today was a rough day.
Several of my brothers lost their lives.
But not really. Only figuratively.
I don't know if you as a reader understand what wrestling is like.
I don't know if you understand how hard it is.
I don't know if you understand what it feels like to put your heart and soul into something, and never give it up no matter the odds, and then be rejected in the end regardless of how much you gave.
But I understand.
Today was the day that we wrestled off as a team for the top two spots in every weight class. Today determined who goes to district and state wrestling, and who's season is over. And it hurt. It hurt so bad.
Before we go more into that, let me tell you a little bit about wrestling.
Wrestling is not a sport. It really isn't. Nobody has ever "played" wrestling. There isn't a verb to precede the noun "wrestling." If you're a wrestler, you wrestle. That's it. It's not like "playing" basketball, or "playing" any other sport. It's something different. Something greater.
In all honesty, wrestling is a lifestyle.
And for this lifestyle a wrestler will run hundreds of miles and do thousands of push ups.
He will give hours and hours of sleep.
He will put himself through Hell, just so that he may learn how to beat the unbeatable.
He will practice move after move after move after move, and after millions of repetitions still not be perfect enough.
He will miss many meals just to get to a lower weight class, and forgo plenty of irresistible sweets in order to stay in prime condition.
He will overcome injuries and defeats, and that relentless voice telling him to stop. Telling him that he's not good enough. That he never will be. That he never can be.
Even in his sleep wrestling does not leave his mind, because he dreams about it.
He will give up his weekends, and his date plans.
He will eat, sleep, breathe, and bleed wrestling.
Wrestling becomes his life.
For most wrestlers, the ultimate achievement is to win a state wrestling title. For a select few, a national title, or even a world title.
And through all of the above mentioned, a wrestler's brothers are his team. And they support him. They keep him going. They help him to shrug the pain off, and rise above the difficulties.
Imagine living like this. Imagine all the difficulties, and the pains, and the victories. Imagine it becoming your life.
And then imagine all of that ending at once in the blink of an eye.
Imagine it ending because one of your brothers beat you for that second spot going to district. One of your very own brothers crushing your dreams. One of the few people in the entire world that can understand everything you've been through ending your life just to continue his. It hurts. It hurts bad. And this is what makes wrestling so hard. Because whether you win or you lose, it hurts. It hurts to crush your brother. It really does. Trust me, I've been there, and I've crushed the dreams of my brothers before. I have broken them. And I have embraced them as they cry and as they ask God how this could happen. Because for them, life is over. And I have cried with them. I have prayed for them.
To those whose seasons are over, it's okay to hurt for a while. It's okay to cry. It's okay to sleep in, you don't have early morning practices anymore. Find something else to do for a while. Something that will keep you productive. Learn a new hobby or something. Unless you're a senior, you've still got another shot. Keep your head up. Everything is going to be all right.
As a reader, I don't expect you to understand this.
I don't expect you to know what I'm talking about.
Because unless you are now or were at one time a wrestler, it's nearly impossible to understand.
I just needed to get all of this off of my chest. Maybe ask you to share a piece of the pain with me so that I don't have to bear it all. Because I can't. I cannot bear it all on my own. Even coming out as one of the victorious, it hurts me so much.
Anyways, I'm done with this post. Thank you for reading, I really appreciate it. May God bless you all the days of your life.
Love,
Dallin