Anyone who has been through high school knows that this particular time in someone’s life is a period of intense change. These four years are the transition from child to fully functioning adult, both physically and mentally. This rapid change in brain chemistry, as well as the quickly fluctuating hormone levels can bring on changes in behavior. Society is well aware of the trope of “angsty teenager,” but recent studies have shown that the issue may well be deeper than this stereotype. This stereotype has caused adults to say that teens going through mental health crises are just “angsty teens” instead of addressing the problem at hand. 

According to the Center of Disease Control and Prevention, or CDC, more than one in four students felt persistently sad and hopeless, and nearly one third experienced some form of mental health crisis. Perhaps even more alarmingly, one in five students seriously considered suicide, and one in ten attempted it. These figures are even higher when it comes to high schoolers who take part in sports. When asked, 91% of athletes said that they experienced stress due to their sport, and many felt like there was no way to help solve these issues, such as a trusted adult, counselor or even friend. 

I experienced many of these feelings this year as an athlete. In addition to skiing, surfing and snowboarding for fun, I compete in many events for mountain biking. I started training this spring in April, and my scheduled workouts were often several hours a day, five to seven days a week. This training started during school, and continued into the summer and, eventually, fall. In addition to this, I raced a local “enduro” (a mix of uphill and downhill racing, but where the racer is only timed on the downhill) mountain bike series in Salida. Over the summer, I continued my training and even took a roadtrip across the country to Pennsylvania and North Carolina for the cross country and downhill mountain bike national championships. Unfortunately, mechanical issues stopped me from racing cross country, but I was able to get a good time in the downhill category. When school started again, I started training with the high school cross country mountain bike team, and competing in races across the state. Despite being a junior, I moved up into the varsity class, racing with juniors and seniors alike. 

Even with all of my training that year, the work I put in and the time I spent, I didn’t feel any sense of accomplishment. The year before, I had won races in the high school league, gotten second overall in the region and a top 20 finish at state championships. This year however, I struggled to crack the top ten riders in each race, despite riding harder than I ever had before. The caliber of the riders in my class was very impressive, and I was discouraged. But other people didn’t understand this feeling of dissatisfaction. “It’s still really good!” and “You shouldn’t compare yourself to the top riders,” was the echoed refrain. But I didn’t get it. Athletes are told to be the best, to win. Why would we compete if it wasn’t to compare ourselves to others? I felt lost. I was working harder than before, and doing worse. It felt unfair.

I started to think more about accomplishment, and what it meant. People often make fun of things like finishers medals or participation awards, but the fact of the matter is that it takes guts to compete. It’s hard to go out and do well, but sometimes, it’s even harder to go out and not do that great. To work hard for something people will look at and say, “oh, you did okay.” To not be the best of the best. To have other things you do with your time and other goals to reach for. With all of that, it’s okay to get second, tenth, even last. You have to find a way to feel like a winner inside yourself, and that’s the most difficult exercise to do.