IGMT #057 | Sometimes the next decision can wait. Reflection deserves its turn first.
Hi Reader!
The alarm was set for 5:00 a.m., but I was awake long before it went off.
The room was quiet. Most of our bags were already packed, except for the usual collection of chargers, hoodies, and the things that somehow never seem to make it back into the suitcase until the last minute. I slid open the balcony door and stepped outside.
The sun hadn't made its appearance yet, but the sky was beginning to change. A few families were already loading up cars while others rolled suitcases toward waiting rides. Orlando was waking up, just like it had every morning that week.
Only this morning felt different.
This wasn't the end of another tournament.
It wasn't the end of another season.
It was the end of the journey.
Morgan had just played her final club volleyball match. After years of practices, road trips, missed weekends, hotel breakfasts, convention center lunches, and thousands of miles in the car, there wasn't another club tournament waiting on the calendar. There wasn't another Nationals to prepare for. There wasn't another schedule to check or wave assignment to memorize.
As I stood there watching the sunrise, I realized something that surprised me.
My mind wasn’t on what came next.
I was overwhelmed with everything that had just happened.
...and it got me thinking.
I'm not sure we're very good at finishing things anymore.
It feels like the moment one chapter ends, someone is already asking about the next one. Before the last whistle has even faded away, athletes are answering questions about tryouts, training schedules, recruiting, private lessons, and next season's plans. Parents are comparing club options. Coaches are planning rosters. Social media is already filled with commitment announcements and new jerseys.
There's nothing wrong with looking ahead.
The problem is that we rarely stop long enough to look back.
Right now, there are thousands of athletes sitting in that exact space. Some just finished the best season of their lives. Others are trying to make sense of a season that didn't turn out the way they hoped. Some earned more playing time than they ever expected. Others watched from the bench wondering if they had done enough. Some can't wait for the next opportunity, while others quietly wonder if they even want to continue.
That last group often has the hardest time.
Not because they don't know the answer.
Because they don't feel like they're allowed to ask the question.
Somewhere along the way, we've started treating reflection like weakness. If an athlete says they need time to think, people immediately become uncomfortable. They hear things like, "You've worked too hard to quit," or, "You'll regret walking away." Sometimes the pressure isn't even spoken. It's simply felt. The expectation is that if you've invested enough time, enough money, and enough pieces of your identity into something, then the only acceptable answer is to keep going.
But reflection isn't quitting.
Reflection is making sure the next decision belongs to you, instead of the pressure surrounding you.
Sometimes reflection reminds you how much you still love the sport. Sometimes it confirms that you're simply exhausted and need a break. Sometimes it helps you realize you still love competing, but maybe the environment you're in is no longer helping you grow. And sometimes it leads you somewhere completely different than you ever expected.
None of those answers are failures.
The failure would be rushing into another commitment simply because everyone else is uncomfortable with your pause.
As I watched the sun finally climb over the horizon that morning, I thought about how lucky we had been. I thought about the teammates who became friends, the coaches who challenged Morgan, the long drives home after tournaments, the laughs in hotel hallways, and even the difficult moments that didn't feel very valuable at the time but somehow became part of the story anyway.
Those memories deserved more than a quick glance before chasing the next thing.
Maybe that's true for all of us.
Maybe before we sign up for another season, accept another commitment, or convince ourselves we have to keep moving because everyone else is moving, we should spend a little time appreciating the chapter we just finished.
Not every ending needs an immediate sequel.
Sometimes the best thing we can do is sit on the balcony a little longer and watch the sun come up.
The next chapter will still be there when we're ready to turn the page.
Need help figuring out what your next chapter looks like?
Whether you're an athlete trying to decide what's next, a parent helping your child navigate a difficult season, or a coach supporting someone through an important transition, sometimes an outside perspective can bring clarity.
I offer free consultation calls where we can simply talk through your situation, explore your options, and see if I can help. There is no pressure and no obligation, just a conversation.
I'd love to hear your story.
