Falling in love with sport in my 30s

& why I have women to thank

For 30 years, I hated sport. Couldn't stand it. PE lessons were spent quaking in fear that the ball might come near me; mortified when it was my turn to bowl or bat or run or jump; and, eventually, hiding in the room-sized cupboard belonging to my drama teacher, who promised not to tell (big up Mrs Greenslade). Football games on TV? Boring. Family cricket on the beach? I'll watch. Rounders in the park with friends? Sorry, washing my hair.

No, no, nope. Not for me, no thank you. I have dreadful hand-eye coordination, I think that's how this pure hatred began. I still remember the feeling of dread and inevitable embarrassment at school: I can't catch it, I can't throw it, and now I must prove that in front of everyone else. There must have been other people with similar (lack of) skills to me in class, but that's not what stuck with me. What stuck was the feeling of failure, and the terrifying experience of having to play on a team with other kids who 1. had some level of skill at whatever sport we were playing and 2. cared about winning. I was on the opposite end of both those scales with no natural skill and no competitive nature. Pair that with the common phrases being thrown around at the time - "you throw like a girl", "girls can't play football" - and hey, congratulations, you've fully cemented my feelings towards sport. It's not for me.

Then I hit 30 and something changed (and I don't think watching the Lionesses win the Euros the same year was a complete coincidence but we'll get to that). It seems that reaching my third decade on Earth came with a giftbag of self-assurance I didn't realise I needed, and the hatred began to thaw. I started running. And shit, I started ENJOYING it. I look forward to my long runs at the weekend, I spend my money on new running gear and accessories, I know what a runners high feels like?! Who is she? A part of me - old me - became disgusted at who I was becoming, but I didn't let her get to me. I'm looking after myself, I'm feeling strong and damn is this good for my mental health. 

But it's not just something inside me that changed in recent years, it's external, too. Pubs are putting women's sport on their screens, people know the names of the England women's football team, viewership of women's sports in general just keeps breaking records, and this year is the first time in history that the Olympic and Paralympic Games have an equal number of men and women competing. I watched the Paris 2024 Olympics like my life depended on it (ask Gail, I really got nothing done for 2 weeks). I cried watching Keely Hodgkinson get her gold medal in the 800m, my jaw was on the floor watching Simone Biles absolutely KILL it, and I was screaming my support at KJT with every event as she smashed the heptathlon. I'm actually getting emotional thinking about how inspiring it was watching these amazing strong women. Like many of us I'm sure, this all amounted to me thinking, “Hang on, if I'd actually got into sport at school that could have been me!!” Of course, I'm not sure that's true but it did make me a little sad that it's only now that I'm genuinely interested and excited by sport, and if I was back at school I'd be giving it my all with no fear and no concern about what others think because I'd just be so eager to learn, have a go, try and fail. Be like them. 

It's not miraculous - the 9 year old inside me still flinches every time I walk past a group of people playing with a football in a park: please don't kick it near me, please don't kick it near me. But I've entered a half-marathon and I'm really enjoying training for it (Gail can back me up here too, she's been on the receiving end of elated voice notes after a successful training run, or pictures of me with my new running belt on). At Gail's hen do we spent an afternoon playing sports-day style games outside and I threw myself into it, finally getting pure joy out of something that used to fill me with fear. It might seem silly but even that was a big step for me! 

What I'm hopeful about is that the young girls in 2024 who might feel unsure about their sporting ability aren’t quaking in fear as they change into their PE kit. Because they could kick like Millie Bright or jump like Bryony Page or hit like Emma Raducanu. 

So here's to more incredible women making space for girls to fall in love with sport way before they hit 30. May we know them, may we raise them, may we be them.

Jess x