The arising sun quickly woke me up out of my deep sleep. Its rays reach in through my window and jogging me awake. If it were any other day of the week, my alarm clock would fail multiple times before I could eventually drag myself out of bed. However that day was different; it was a tournament day. Tournament days are days where I could jump out of bed and got ready with energy, instead of slumping through the morning. I was used to it of course. Waking up at the crack of dawn, eating breakfast, getting ready, packing my bag and being out the door in less than ten minutes. 

This sport dominated my thoughts all weeks. The week did not go by in each individual days nor when my assignments were due, but by when I had practice. I was practically married to the sport. I have practiced over hundred hours this season so far, and playing in countless tournaments. Driving to tournaments, doing homework on the ground, while being inside a loud hectic gym filled with people seemed to be just apart a routine. All the people in the room have one thing on their mind and one thing only. Winning. I was surrounded by competitive glares, and taunts. And, I loved every second of it. There is not a place I would rather be than this. This was my normal.

Yet, I can say I am not much of a competitive person. But some how this sport pulls a different side out of me. Competition flows through my veins, white-hot anger toward my enemy, my opponent. And yet it is just a game.
Competition drives me to success, a win. By fighting for the next point or to the end of the set. It makes me serve more powerfully, go for every ball even when it seems hopeless, and cheer when my team wins. Competition makes the win so much better, and contributes to more of a feeling of accomplishment. Winning is nothing without preserving to the end and feeling like you achieved something together as a team, but also as an individual. But really, that is competition, seeded from the desire to want to win, to succeed. Your end goal is the win, and the feeling that sprouts from it.

If you are not competing without an end goal, are you really competing?

It was not until that weekend that I had ever seen competition like this before. I woke and did what I did. Ate breakfast, changed, brushed my teeth, and was in the car waiting. Then, leaving for five hour long car ride to Penn State for the last volleyball tournament of the season. There were teams we had previously beaten, as well as teams we had lost to.  I knew we had drastically improved, and I had faith in us. All teams prepare for this from the beginning of the season, and this is the weekend that everybody trains for from the first practice.  It had teams from all over the east coast. Teams we had played. Team we had never had heard of. But it did not matter. I knew that I had to play my best through all the bouts, and develop and sustain my competitive side for the whole came. Savor the victories, and let the defeats roll off you. Win as if I am used to it, and lose with grace. But it is exhausting, both mentally and physically tired by the end of it all. But that is the sport, and I love it.