Tennis Anyone?

I distinctly remember the day that I consciously stopped being competitive.  Okay, well maybe that's an exaggeration - competitiveness is in my blood - no one on my dad's side is exactly "easy going."  My dad isn't one to give away a pity game even if he is dominating a tennis match 6-0, 5-0 (40-love).  More like shoot for a "golden set."  I mean, it is pretty impressive to be able to say that you didn't lose a single point during an entire set.  I think that I had one of those in high school.  Anyways - I was probably 15.  That would make David, my brother, about 10.  We were skiing in our normal fashion - my dad leading the pack with me right behind...at least until David just completely would not get off my tracks.  He was really gunning for my number two position on the ski slope.  He wanted so badly to be better than me.  Be the better, faster, crazier skier.  And he was.  I realized then that I couldn't keep up.  I couldn't be the best at everything.  Feeling marginally sorry for myself, I just stopped.  I let him go ahead and I dutifully followed.  Victory was his.  

I spent 4th of July weekend in Tahoe with my parents.  Low and behold my father dragged me onto the tennis court (now that I am home for the immediate future, I'm pretty sure that he has big plans to up our #16 National Father-Daughter tennis ranking...okay maybe I kind of want that as well).  Anyways - we hit for an hour or so until finally he started playing out some of my serves.  After not stepping onto a court for a few months, I was pretty surprised by how well I was hitting - and of course - the moment that my dad put pressure onto the non-threatening situation, I choked.  Serves long, wide, and into the net.  Tennis is an emotional sport.  It is so mental.  It is the reason why I rarely competitively play with family or friends.  It just gets too intense.  I will gladly hit all day, but as soon as we start keeping score, I'm out.  I've realized that my love-hate relationship with tennis is a lot like this MCAT ordeal.  I can sit down and do practice problems all day long but when game day comes, I freeze.

I'm not really sure I understand why I stopped with the intensity.  If anyone has experience with performing under pressure, it is me.  I was a competitive gymnast for the majority of my childhood.  After quitting in middle school I took up tennis (because what else was I supposed to do?  My grandmother is in the tennis hall of fame, my dad, mom, brothers, aunt, and cousins all play tennis.  There wasn't much of an option as to what my sport post gymnastics was going to be).  I was a ranked junior player with countless medals and trophies.  Not like I've checked recently, but I'm pretty sure that if you "Google" me, my 1997 NCS championship still shows up around page two.  I don't know, maybe somewhere along the way I burned out?  I realized that the intense emotional turmoil and anxiety that I put on myself by trying to achieve perfection wasn't worth it.  Losing...accepting defeat...was always more than heart wrenching. 

Six weeks prior to MCAT number one I freaked out.  I was taking practice tests weekly, while trying to balance my science classes, and I wasn't getting the scores that I needed.  It was the first time in two years that I deeply felt as though Tulane might not actually work out.  I have a fairly decent sense of myself, how I am feeling, and what I am capable of, but something inside of me just didn't feel right.  I was consumed by doubt.  Around that time, I started studying with a friend who was consistently scoring higher than me.  He simply said - Meghan...just beat me.  For whatever reason my deep rooted competitiveness overcame my insecurities, and that is exactly what I did.  I started beating him.  We all know that in the end, scoring above and beyond in practice exams didn't result in an acceptance to medical school.  Maybe next time?  I guess I should be in a mental vacuum of winning, dominance, and self esteem, but just as I find myself slipping...losing focus...or perhaps even caring about tennis matches, I struggle to maintain my innately competitive edge on test day.

p.s. - Scott - I know that you are reading this.  The next time we play tennis you have to promise to pretend that my Achilles Tendon has not been revealed.  You better not take advantage of my honesty!