Lessons from the Ice and the Mat: How Figure Skating and Cheerleading Shape My Approach to Wellness

I vividly remember my constant in and outs of medical offices, hospitals, and physical therapy centers. These settings became as routine as the ice rink or the spring mats did to me. Going into high school, I faced a constant battle with my body, and it became a defining aspect of my athletic journey. With a diagnosis of hip dysplasia, every jump, leap, spin, and tumble came with a sharp reminder of my body’s unwanted limits. 

I picture hip dysplasia as a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit where it’s supposed to. Imagine a socket designed to cradle the head of a ball, but instead, the socket is too shallow. This joint which is intended to move seamlessly becomes misaligned, creating a silent friction - almost like a hinge that grinds against itself with each step and turn. My hip sockets were too shallow for my hip joint, and every jump sent sharp pains shooting through my hips, reminding me of my own body’s fragility.

I’d like to think that figure skating was my first love. At the young age of 4, the ice rink quickly became my sanctuary. I tended to set aside my pain for this as well. My mom and dad constantly joked about taking off my skates the first time, only to reveal the multitude of blisters covering my feet after I begged them to let me stay on the ice. Regardless, I loved the peace and quiet that filled my mind with each glide, and the discipline it took to master every jump up to the early triples. Through my years of skating, I cultivated a sort of mental endurance I fully believe I wouldn’t have been able to develop anywhere else. Unfortunately, my hip dysplasia presented many challenges, spins strained my hips and jumping would exacerbate the pain among my landings. Visits to the hospital resulted in answers of either getting a surgery to cut and shift my hip sockets–something too frightening for a 14 year old to even grasp– or to partake in physical therapy and deal with the pain. I opted for the latter, despite my pain, but I still never quit. There were many long days, and many long practices where I'd push through my pain, thinking that if I stuck it out long enough, maybe my body would have no choice but to feel better. Unfortunately, as one may guess, this wasn't the case. All of this only made it more difficult to maintain the skills I had already mastered, while pushing me even further behind in learning anything new.

It took my tears turning into frustration, and my frustration turning into anger for me to come to the true realization of what wellness meant. A poor mental state would only worsen my physical symptoms, and I had to face the reality that constantly fighting with my body was doing more harm than good. I had to find a new kind of discipline—the kind that allowed me to prioritize my long-term well-being over immediate gratification. I wasn't invincible, and treating my body and my mind as if they were turned me into my greatest enemy. I learned early on that wellness meant respecting my own limits, and understanding when I was meant to push forward or to rest. To do well, I had to be well. I had to listen, nurture it, and find strength in taking care of both my mind and body.

When I transitioned to cheerleading in high school and later college, I carried these lessons with me. Cheerleading demanded explosive energy, strength, and flexibility—qualities my body wasn’t always willing to give. My hip pain flared up during practices, especially during intense stunts and tumbling routines. Yet, I learned to be resilient. While there were a few moments I pushed through discomfort, I started recognizing when I had to listen to my body and when to rest. These moments proved wellness extended beyond physical endurance, but also required mental strength and self-trust. I had to believe in my ability to overcome obstacles, even when my body wasn’t cooperating, while simultaneously focus on maintaining this balance within myself.

The struggles I faced on the ice and the mat taught me to view wellness as a holistic practice. It wasn’t just about physical health, but also mental resilience and emotional well-being. It’s about balance, persistence, and knowing when to listen to my body. For all the wellness and mindfulness programs I’ve embraced, I now approach it with the same discipline I spent years honing on the ice and the mat—nurturing both my body and my mind, building resilience with each step.