Un-

During the first week of October I picked up my phone an average of 100 times a day according to my phone’s insights. 

The app I opened most will surprise you. It wasn’t Instagram, Twitter, or Facebook even as a committed to sharing resources and posts about navigating racial tensions, shelter in place orders, training, mental health during a pandemic across my social media channels.

Nope. It was my Wells Fargo app. It tells me when I log on, the last time I logged on.

Ten minutes ago.

Almost obsessively I checked my bank balance awaiting my last payment from Nike. 

We get paid quarterly and I had, the previous quarter dragged bestie into a cross country trip to run in any meet opportunities we could find so that I wouldn’t breach my contracts “minimum meet participation” clause. 

Had I not done so, Nike would have had the right to exercise a massive reduction based on that breach effective immediately and retroactively. Meaning, I could have forgone the last quarter’s payment all together AND owed them money back.

Fortunately, we found the meets, “competed”, and because we drove back I was able to finally complete my move from Montgomery by emptying my storage unit, loaded up a pick up, and drove it back to Cali. 

I got to see the Grand Canyon. 

And I wrapped my season making my Cali home feel a little more like home. So I could be more grounded in pursuit of a third and final Olympic team.

But my bank balance didn’t change.

And a week later it didn’t change.

And a week after it didn’t change.

And so I asked if I got the number of meets wrong and if that’s why I got a reduction.

And the answer was no, I did right to compete in those meets, the reduction was for not competing at the Olympic Games.

Oh. The Games that never happened. The Games that I could not have even qualified for because the Trials never happened.

It was a blow that wasn’t entirely unexpected. After all, running during the pandemic to keep the contract was pretty good foreshadowing to me about how this would turn out.

Plus my contract with NIKE expired on Dec. 31st I was of no delusion that they would exercise the option year in that contract since the Olympics did not happen. And under no delusion that they would offer to resign me even for pennies on the dollar. That’s just not how this industry values people like me. And I don’t take that personally.

I still took it hard though. Not the being “dropped” part. 

The feeling that unsponsored means unsupported.

The feeling that being unsponsored is a permanent declaration of your inability to achieve the goal you were being sponsored for.

Unsponsored does not mean unsupported.

From the day I left Tampa in May of 2017 I understood on a cellular level for the FIRST time that there is no Prince Charming, no Knight in Shining Armor, no Savior. 

Just me, working to save myself. Living out loud. And recognizing my people when I find them. Being honest about where I need help and what I need. Being open and generous with ways I can help others and following through on my collaborations.

And that’s how I know unsponsored doesn’t mean unsupported.

Because you’re reading this.

I also see your faces in my Zoom Yoga Studio

You listened and shared with me your struggles and dreams in my Radical Resilience workshop.

You comment and like my posts and laugh with me when I’m making fun of myself or being goofy (which is my true form 🤪)

My female friends have come through for me in ways I could write an entire post about. Stephanie Bruce, and Sara Tanza remind me constantly how I save myself and continue to do so over and over.

I’ve befriended brands who, like friends, ask me if I need anything and send me goodies unsolicited.

One of my friends just happened to be friends with the president of a sports medicine company and connected us.

I’m sharing these things with you because it’s so easy to focus on the lack. 

We miss how abundant we are in other ways because we’re viewing it through the filter of what was lost.

Imagine it this way. Let’s say what you lost had it’s own shape, size, and weight. And it’s outline, like a mould is all that’s left of it.

And then something new comes along, with a different shape, size, and weight. 

And instead of embracing it as its own new thing.

We try to slide it into the mould the last thing left behind...

Yea...of course it’s not the same. Of course it doesn’t fit. And sometimes that’s all we see.

We forget that every new thing doesn’t have to be compared to the old thing. 

And once we get there we can know and better cherish what we do have.

So that’s where I’m at. Far less freaked out about pursuing such a niche and expensive goal without a shoe and apparel sponsor but hell...truth is I can buy shoes and have a closet full of clothes that didn’t expire simply because the contract did. You just won’t see me compete in it.

It’s also true that this is my 15th year as a professional. I’ve run for just one other company, Saucony before they shifted focus to different events. I’ve been through any and everything an athlete can go through during this time. And I feel I’ve earned the right to spend my last seasons with a team I’m fully aligned with, that make me as proud of them as they’d be of me. 

After hanging on for so long, and making so many comebacks, and overcoming so many things that’s my wish for myself. To be able to wrap up this chapter of my life a year or two from now knowing that the journey wasn’t always perfect, or easy. But that it was mine. And that makes it priceless.

Your journey is yours. It’s priceless.

Unsponsored doesn’t mean unsupported.

And if you’re feeling unsupported...

Unsupported doesn’t mean unworthy.

Forever forward...

blogger’s note: Paul Doyle the agent who negotiated my contract fought for us, and Nike eventually paid out my final payment.