Back in the Game... and Swinging for the Fences

Life threw me a curveball that was so nasty I walked back to the dugout and hung my head... for a long time.

And during that time, I had plenty of well-meaning teammates (in this game of life, I call those friends, family, and colleagues) who came and sat beside me, gave me a pat, a hug, and a well-meaning grip on the shoulder. Many of them kept checking in on me to make sure I was okay. Some offered incredible guidance and support. And yet I continued to sit there in deep sadness, questioning when and how I wanted to return to the game.

Then one day, a baseball rolled by and hit my foot. And for whatever reason, something about that moment made me realize... I was ready to get back out on the field and brave the plate again.

The past year has been incredibly painful. Losing my husband, Dave (an incredible human many of you knew and loved), changed me in ways I am probably still discovering. I've spent a lot of time in my head and my heart, and I will always be beyond grateful that I got to experience the level of love that I did with him.

Somewhere along the way, after a whole lot of soul searching, I realized something else... I'm still here. And I'm ready to get back in the game. For me, getting back in the game means picking up something that I had to set down for a while... Grit Sports.

I started Grit Sports because I believed there was something important to build for athletes and their families. I still believe that. Actually, I have even more conviction now than I did before.

So I'm walking back onto the field with a much greater appreciation for how precious life is and a much clearer understanding of where I want to spend my time and energy. And I know with all of my heart (and a fair amount of intuition) that it's time to stop thinking about what Grit Sports could become and truly start building it into the business I know it can be.

I think there's something else I've learned while sitting in that dugout...

You can have incredible teammates sitting beside you. They can encourage you, support you, check on you, and remind you that the game is still going on. But ultimately, nobody else can decide when it's time for you to stand up. That part is yours.

I'm ready, and there are still a whole lot of things I want to do in this life... personally and professionally. I can't do them from the dugout. So I'm getting up off the bench, leaving the dugout, and walking back toward the plate.

I will say that curveball hurt. The bruise is still there, and I suspect it always will be in some form. And as I make that slow walk back to the plate, I can feel the flutter of butterflies in the pit of my stomach. Nerves? Excitement? Anticipation? Yes.

And somewhere in the background, I can almost hear the announcer... "And walking back up to the plate after a long absence... Michele Konetski. And folks, I could be wrong, but I think I might see a little smile on her face."

He's right, because as I approach the plate with my bat in my hand, there's one thought I keep repeating to myself...

I'M BACK... AND I'M SWINGING FOR THE FENCES!

Let's see what happens when I swing.