What is an athlete?

 

I live on a small farm where I grow a lot of things. Blueberries, blackberries, cherries, apples, pears. Tomatoes, peppers, squash, asparagus, cucumbers, pumpkins. I love it.

I have raised beds, trough beds, and open rows. I grow far more than my family can consume. Come blueberry picking time, I can put headphones on and pick until dark-thirty. It is a place of peace for me.

My son seems to have inherited that love of growing things. In a couple of small raised beds, he raises a bounty of vegetables and seems to have a green thumb.

I didn’t grow up on a farm, but I did grow up farming. We lived out in the “country” and from a very young age, I helped surrounding farmers with their hay. “Hauling hay” might even have been a career aspiration for me if there was an option there.

My dad always had a big garden—our family depended on it. We had cherry trees and strawberries and honey bees. From about 10 on, it was my responsibility to “rob” the bees of their honey and then sell it out our front door on Highway 11, a busy thoroughfare for those going south through Tennessee before the days of the interstates.

I’ve helped slaughter hogs, render lard, prep hams for curing, gathered eggs, built fence, and inoculated cattle.  (Actually, my job was to tackle them and hold them down for the real farmer to give them their shots and ear tags.)

Does that make me a farmer? I don’t know. Maybe. Does growing things make one a farmer? Do you have to gather and sell crops or raise stock to be a real farmer? I’m not sure. But I think so. And if someone wants to call me a farmer, I’ll be proud of it.

Just this week, I saw a 43 year old with some knee issues that wanted to know what to do about them. That’s not unusual—my day is filled with that sort of thing. But what made this one a little different is that he wanted help to make him a better basketball player.

Basketball isn’t a job for him, it’s just something he loves to do. And it sounds like he’s pretty good at it.

He almost apologized for being 43 and still playing, competing against people 20 years younger than himself. I assured him it was OK, as I had played until I was 59, and would still be playing if I had the knees for it.

Does that make him an athlete? Absolutely. You don’t have to be a teenager and on a team to be an athlete. You don’t have to get paid for playing a sport to be considered an athlete.

You don’t have to keep score, pursue a championship, or be in a league to be considered an athlete. All you have to do is to pursue a physical activity to be considered an athlete.

“Pursue a physical activity.” That’s my final answer. You jog the Greenbelt for your health? You’re an athlete. You’re 70 and ride a bicycle? You’re an athlete.

There are no age limits on who can be an athlete. Sure, our first exposure to the world of sports is on a team, maybe a T Ball team at the local little league park or the swim team at the country club, but that alone is not what makes someone an athlete.

An active lifestyle is an essential component to good health. And to pursue good health, you’ve got to exercise, eat healthy foods, and avoid sedentary activities.

And if you’re pursuing good health, whether it’s walking in the park of hiking to Mount LeConte, You’re an athlete. Plain and simple.

So, make no apologies for basketball at 43 or tennis at 50 or pickleball at 75. You’re an athlete and can chase whatever dream you want to, whether it is to dunk again, win at doubles, or enjoy a long rally.

You’re an athlete.