This past winter I was having the best wrestling season of my life. I was physically and mentally strong, and I was able to fight hard. In my excitement about wrestling, I started watching tons of wrestling videos and quite dramatically stopped reading my Bible and doing devotions every morning before school. My life flipped completely from God being No. 1 to wrestling being the only thing I cared about.

Over a period of 2.5 months, I wrestled every day, not missing any practice. Then, God started trying to wake me up to see what I was doing. I got really sick, and then I permanently hurt my back. Still, I wouldn't listen to God; I kept right on ignoring Him.

Back when I was a track athlete, I was blessed to have great coaches who taught me about the need for perseverance and patience throughout the track season. My high school coach used to tell me in meets early in the season, “Right now, you are racing against the clock. Try to be a step faster, and you’re winning. Remember, the race that matters most is the final in League Championships.” My coach understood the big picture and our goals for the season. He sought to build that same sense into me as well so that I could continue progressing, improving each day to reach the ultimate goal. Now that I’m a coach myself (women’s volleyball), I have reflected on this lesson often.

Playing the final round of The Masters yesterday was very fitting for golfer Bubba Watson. For him it was an opportunity to win The Masters for the second time in two years, while playing for his Master, Jesus Christ. Watson defeated Jordan Spieth and Jonas Blixt to win his second major championship. After his first win in 2012, he thanked his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, and admitted he didn’t know what to say because as he put it, “I never got this far in my dreams.”

One of the worst feelings in sports is losing after having a big lead. Most of us have been a part of a game in which we got ahead early and then watched a victory slip away. We never see it coming because we become so comfortable with the position we’ve gained that we assume we’re not vulnerable and we slack off. Maybe we play around with the ball in the backfield, or we slow our pace. We might even quit completely or forget some of the fundamentals of the game because of how blind we’ve become.

Splashing furiously, I tried desperately to outswim my younger sister. As I reached through the water with every ounce of strength in my 16-year-old body, my lungs and muscles burned. I looked up at the clock. She’d beaten me…again. I was crushed. The pain my body experienced couldn’t compare to the pain I felt inside—the jealousy and anger and failure. Nothing mattered except the reality that I had lost to my fiercest competitor.