Monthly Notes 💌 September

On the meaning of identity.

I was 9-years-old when my mom convinced the guy she was seeing to let me play on his soccer team. He was an assistant coach at a local league. I had zero experience—but an ongoing desire to find my place in the world of competitive sports—and after three underwhelming years in softball it was time for something new.

It was already mid-season and my only understanding of the game was that it involved some level of kicking a ball around. I had no concept of offsides. I struggled to keep up with the rest of the team and ran breathlessly up and down the pitch, often finding myself alone while searching frantically for a familiar red penny. He became so frustrated that he benched me for the rest of the game.

I quit two weeks later.

This pattern would repeat itself many times throughout my youth. By high school, the only sport I was allowed to participate in was track and field (simply because anyone could join). I was the slowest on the team and clocked a very unimpressive 16.5 seconds during my first 100m sprint.

After a few weeks my “friend” starting telling our teammates, “I don’t get why she’s even trying. She should just quit.”

My freshman year ended and I resigned the next decade to solo workouts at my local 24 Hour Fitness.

And then, in 2019, bored of the gym and having just moved to San Francisco, I stepped into Rise Combat Sports for the first time. The only class that fit my schedule was Muay Thai. It was entirely out of my comfort zone, but I had nothing left to lose.

I fell in love instantly.

I regularly attended class, formed a community, and fell deeper into the sport year after year. There were a handful of competitive fighters at our gym, but the thought of competing never once crossed my mind.

Fighting was something that other people did: the ones who grew up with chiseled physiques and fast-twitch muscle fibers built diligently over years of training through intramural teams and competitive leagues. For the first four years, my only goal was to be 1% better than the day before. To punch a little harder, kick a little higher. I learned to clinch, to hold pads, and to spar with both intensity and control.

Then, four months ago, Alby and I sat down together and signed a two-year lease for an apartment in Brooklyn. For the first time in recent memory we were finally staying in one place. I had no extraordinary travel plans over the summer. I had the time, the consistent schedule, and the confidence from years of training.

Getting into the ring felt like a natural step forward.

I signed up for my first exhibition event (known as a “smoker” or interclub) and got to work. I spent two months ramping up the volume and intensity of my training to levels I had yet to experience. Fight camp fanned a spark into a flame, and week after week my desire to learn and improve reached new heights. I had never felt so present, so focused, so ready for anything in my life.

I expected nervousness, doubt, fear. I was told these feelings would come as the date approached, but all I felt was a growing sense of excitement. I was self-assured in my skills and training regime and showed up at weigh-ins ready to leave everything in the ring.

The bell went off and I threw my first kick. It was slower, softer, more awkward than I had expected. It was like wafting through mud. I threw another just before my opponent connected her first jab, and all I could think was: I’ve made a terrible mistake.

I’m not cut out for this.

I don’t belong here.

I’m stupid for even trying.

Deep down, I was still the little girl who was raised believing that she wasn’t good enough.

My mind and body screamed at me to quit. But even as my breathing labored and my limbs grew heavy, I didn’t. The only thing I knew with more certainty than my inability to continue was that I had no other option but to.

Eight minutes later I was at the center of the ring—hand in the air, smiling and soaking in the roaring cheers from my gym mates.

Photo by @cronziii

I am an athlete.

I often think about identity. I nerd out on personality tests (INTJ, reporting for duty!) because they provide tidy containers to define ourselves with. By filtering our existence through binary adjectives (creative, introvert, morning person, organized) we get closer to making sense of who we are and why we exist. We make quicker decisions, connect more authentically, and feel more in-tune with ourselves.

But identity is soft, malleable, defined loosely by crooked lines and blurred edges. And it’s ever-evolving. There are parts of us that change, parts that we refine, and parts that we never knew existed.

It’s been proven time and time again: nurture matters more than nature.

Instead of telling yourself you’re not athletic, not creative, not smart, not funny, not good enough—just start. Take a step forward. Change is possible, and sometimes we find that we were wrong about ourselves all along. But you’ll never know if you stop at the first sign of doubt.

And fuck anyone who tells you that you’re not capable.

Especially if that person is yourself.

Photo by @cronziii

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✨ Highlights

1. Alby and I spent Labor Day Weekend with his family in D.C., exploring the National Mall and popping into free museums to escape the heat wave. My favorite part was the new cellphone exhibit at the Natural History Museum. It blows my mind to think that we’re at a phase in human history where we have iPhones on display next to dinosaur bones.

2. Fall is always exceptionally social and this year is no different. We hosted several friends over multiple weekends and it was amazing to explore the city again after a summer spent deep in grind mode.

3. I had my first Michelin Star yakitori experience at Torien and it did not disappoint!

4. The biggest highlight by far was all of the love and support I received from friends and teammates over the last month. I have so many people in my corner and I’m truly very grateful for it.

🐒 Stuff I Made

Another slow month on the ‘tube, but cranked out at least one video. If you’ve ever struggled to journal, take a peek here:

🎧 Reading, watching, listening

1. Summer Strike: Just started this one and it’s so precious! I’m forever searching for a K-Drama to fill the void in my heart after finishing Hometown Cha Cha Cha, and this may just fit the bill.

2. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue: I’m still on the V.E. Schwab train and digging into yet another one of her brilliant works.

3. The Cus D’Amato Mind: A brief collection of insights from Mike Tyson’s boxing trainer. Even if you don’t practice a combat sport, there’s so much to learn from the mental gymnastics it takes to convince yourself to get into a ring with another person who’s sole intention is to hurt you.

🍃 Little joys

1. I finally started Stardew Valley and I’m surprised it took me so long to get it. It’s exactly what I want out of a game: cozy, explorative, and relaxing. It’s perfect for fall (I named my farm Stars Hallow, fwiw).

2. It feels like an eternity since I last wore a sweater and I’m currently thriving in the crisp autumn weather that’s suddenly descended on NYC. Socks and sweat pants are my happy place.

3. I’m the poster child for Type-A personalities and as a consequence I find it very, very difficult to relax. I told myself that after my fight camp I would spend a week doing nothing productive except for showing up to my 9-to-5 each day. That means no training, no editing, and no side projects. Winding down after 6pm feels foreign, but refreshing.

4. Cooking is a source of joy but coming home from a long training session and whipping up dinner at 10:30pm isn’t ideal. I started ordering Factor75 meals (not sponsored) and it’s given me SO much time back.

How was your September? What are your goals for October? Hit reply, I’d love to know!

Until next time,

Wes