Last night was one of the most significant practices of my career. I am still so excited about it, that I woke up early to get it onto paper and share it with the world. Better grab a cup of coffee – this one might be longer than most.

I coach a Junior 3 team (middle school/early high school age). My co-coach, Nessa, and I are always talking to them about mindset and choices. Our mindset needs to be one of confidence and self-belief – we go into a skill knowing we can, and will, do it. Our choices are what lead us to greatness… when we decide to hold back or push through a challenge. These choices define us as a team, and as individuals. We are constantly doing this because we believe this team has the potential to be great, but they don’t always have the right mindset or make the right choices, and it holds us back.

Last night I introduced my favorite training, creatively called “The Running Game”. It’s a conditioning game where the team must run laps and then one group at a time runs into the circle executing every element of their routine flawlessly. If they make a mistake, they don’t get to go through to the next level. The whole team has to wait for every member of the team to clear a certain level in order to move on. It doesn’t end until everyone clears every level. It’s endurance and mental toughness training. (We prepare them for it, I promise.)

We played the running game tonight, and one of my athletes, Dakota, started yelling at me. Let me tell you a little about her – Dakota has been in my gym, coached by me since June. She struggles with feeling like she’s enough as a cheerleader because she doesn’t tumble. She holds back sometimes, afraid to put herself out there. Anyway, she’s yelling at me that she can’t continue and needs to stop. I have run this drill many times, and I can tell when they need to stop and when they are just tired (and I always let them stop if they need to). Dakota just hit the wall and needed to decide if she should stop or push through. So I told her that she could get through, she could breathe, as evidenced by her yelling at me. “Stop giving up on yourself, Dakota.”

And that is when it happened.

It was like the light switch flicked in her head. She looked at me – her cheeks flushed and red hair stuck wildly to her face with sweat. She didn’t say anything more to me. She just kept running. And she kept yelling. But now she wasn’t yelling at me. She was yelling encouragement to her teammates. “You got this!” and “I know we can do this!”. Nessa looked at me and said “wow. This game really changes people.”

As the kids were leaving, I was chatting with Dakota. She was so proud of herself and couldn’t help but explain to me what she felt at that moment. I told her she deserves to be great. She looked at me and smiled proudly. “Thank you, Coach Jill.”

I drove all the way from the gym in Fitchburg, Massachusetts to my home in Southern New Hampshire thinking about Dakota. I smiled while thinking about her breakthrough while I walked the dogs. I shed tears of joy as I told my staff about how proud of Dakota I am.

Coaches have this ability to impact and change the lives of so many. But it works both ways – athletes can impact and change the lives of their coaches too. Dakota had an impact on me. I will be proud of her and reflect on that moment for the rest of my life.

And to that, I say “Thank you, Dakota.”