Friendship, advice, and self discovery

"Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labor. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe unto him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up."
-- Ecclesiastes 4:9-10.


Every once in a while I find myself struggling with my choice to keep fencing rather than pursue the path more traveled-graduate school and a career. Although my convictions to train for Beijing are strong and true, there are many times where I invite doubt to cloud my perspective.

Last week Thursday was one of those days. I came home from practice and received a call from one of my old fencing friends who has long since retired from the sport. He was a great American fencer who set records on the international scene at the same time as I was making incredible results. He would often tell me that we were alike in our pursuits and desires to win. But unlike me, he quit after his second Olympics to pursue a very lucrative career in finance.

He is older than me and I always looked up to him like a mentor or big brother. Even now I find myself seeking his approval therefore when we spoke I was hesitant to approach the subject of my decision to fence. I was waiting for him to say something like-you're wasting your time, this takes away from your career goals, you're better than that, etc. However, he didn't say anything about it and his silence was even more disheartening because I just knew that he didn't even want to talk about it.

Sometimes one person or friend can shake your foundation and cause you to rethink everything. This is even more true when there is even the slightest amount of self doubt about a decision that has been made. In some cases the questions could be good but in this particular case I found myself shaken and worried. I was worried that I wasn't confident enough in my decision in order to defend it to my long time friend. I was worried that I still needed someone's approval and validation. How could he know everything that had led me to this point? How could he know what it feels like to compete again? How could he know how my future would play out?

I became rather depressed as I began spinning negative thoughts into a larger and larger web. But then-I received another phone call and this time it was from one of my best friends from college, Mikey Lee. There is a picture posted of him on an earlier blog of when I was just leaving California.

It's funny how serendipitous this moment was because it was at the very moment I needed a friend to lift me up. I spilled the beans to Mikey and let him know that I was having some serious trepidation about moving home to pursue fencing. I told him how I felt like all it seemed like everyone around me was moving in a forward trajectory and I was the only one moving backwards. I even gave him the example of how he went from the gubernatorial race to running a California city council campaign-and I went from working on the gubernatorial race to living at home and working out all day. It was like I went from budding star to desperate rich housewife.

Then he said the following which I wrote down, "What you are having is a typical grass is greener problem. The question really is,are you going to enjoy what you're doing in the moment or compare it to what you could be doing?

Really think about what he said and if it doesn't strike you, then you weren't really reading the words. How many times do we second guess ourselves because we believe that somewhere out there is a better path? How often do we doubt that we can make he right decisions for our own lives? Why do we believe that others' approval of our choices provide a better validation than our own approval? More importantly, why couldn't I trust myself and believe that I could still be successful even if I was taking time out to make the Olympic team? Sounds ludicrous writing it out but I often doubt that I am a successful person.

Then I thought about what Lisa Slater said to me this week after shooting some photos of me for my portfolio. She told me to look back at the photos that she had taken of me starting at age 13 until now and to note the marked difference in the brightness and playfulness of my smile. At age 13 I was a goofy kid who would crack a smile just because I was thinking about fencing, school, friends, family, etc. And then if you look at a picture of me as the Olympian in 2000, you can see someone worried and stressed about results and success. A picture is worth a thousand words.

Granted life is different at 13 than it is at 25 but it doesn't have to be so serious. Somewhere along the line when I was trying out for the Olympic team, trying to get good grades at Stanford, trying to fit in, moving from place to place, I lost what it really meant to enjoy the process of living.

Trying out for the Olympic games shouldn't define me or shut me out of my own future, but it should become part of a more complex fabric and meaning of what it is to be Iris Zimmermann.