The sun rises over the flat Nebraska horizon as Tamara laces up her tennis shoes with a flourish. She grabs her gym (and school) bag and races out the door. Coach Hannigan had told her the night before that she needed to work on her balance and focus, as she had been tripping up lately near the foul line and releasing the ball just a tad too late. She could still hear the dull thud! of the heavy ball as it landed, instead of arching out smoothly from her hand and connecting with the glossy surface of the lane.

Tamara couldn't erase the subtle disappointment that flickered across Coach Hannigan's face after her blunder. A simple blink and pause from her coach is all Tamara needs to know that she's not pleased. Tamara picks up her pace and hustles to the gym.

While her usual mornings consist of a quick stretch followed by a jog and a visit to the weight room, once a week Tamara takes a yoga class. She knows breathing through the poses and holding her form will help return her concentration, improve her balance, and even give her a spike in energy.

"Namaste," she murmurs to her yoga instructor as she reaches her arms upward in a sun salutation. Soon, the stress from her recent bowling setbacks melts away and she feels her tension float away with it. She's sure that if she picks up a bowling ball right now, she'll throw a perfect strike. And probably disrupt the yoga class.

Unfortunately, it's several hours until Tamara has bowling practice. She sits patiently through her morning Humanities class, taking diligent notes and feeling the glow from her yoga class. Her professor assigns an essay—the first of the semester—due early next week. Tamara feels her glow change to a hot flush. Essays are not her strong point, and she has a tournament this weekend. Ruh-roh.

Whatever, she tells herself. I'll just have to work on it a little at a time all week. As Tamara heads into her next class, though, she can't help but feel weighed down with anxiety.

Great. She spends enough time being weighed down by her bowling bag.

Throughout the day, Tamara's slight anxiety becomes a nagging headache. She gets assigned another hefty project in her biology class—also due early next week. The nagging headache becomes a very painful headache. She needs to calm down.

That was the last time she would trust Google Maps to get her to the bowling alley. (Source)

Tamara closes her eyes and breathes slowly. She imagines that she's standing alone on a grassy hilltop.

It's dusk. She stretches her arms to the sky, takes a deep breath, and bellows: SERENITY NOW! Her thunderous wail echoes off the surrounding hillsides. A few wolves howl in the distance as her veins course with the mystical power of the incantation. Bring it on, she says to herself.

Tamara opens her eyes. Everyone in the biology lecture is staring at her. Whoops. Turns out, that thunderous wail wasn't just in her imagination. She apologizes and shrinks down in her chair.

On the way back to her dorm, she overhears her teammates discussing their opponents over lunch.

"I wonder if Coach Hannigan will start me this time. At the last tourney, she only had me sub in. But I've improved a lot since then," Tamara's roommate, Sarah-Jane, insists. "I really want this shot, but I know she's only going to use her very best against Vanderbilt."

I wonder if she'll start me, too, Tamara thinks to herself. This year, she's been selected as a starter more often than not. But at the last tournament, Coach Hannigan decided to pull in a freshman "for experience." Thinking back to her coach's face last night, Tamara can't help but wonder if it was for other reasons.

She smiles an encouraging smile to Sarah-Jane. "You've been playing great. I don't see why Coach Hannigan wouldn't start you."

"Ha! I'm sure she could rattle off a million reasons why any of us shouldn't start, knowing her," jokes Sarah-Jane. Tamara's stomach does a flip.

Later that day, lost in her thoughts, Tamara tries to put together a quick outline for her essay. She sits at her desk with her fingers poised above the keyboard, but by the time she's ready to type, Sarah-Jane taps her on her shoulder.

"Time for practice. Let's go!"

Leaving an untitled and blank Word document behind, Tamara heads out with Sarah-Jane to the lanes. As Sarah-Jane yammers on about Vanderbilt's team roster, the scores they'll need to put up to beat them, and the individual players and their strengths and weaknesses, Tamara unpacks her bowling bag and takes out her favorite ball. Nothing can break her concentration.

Thud!

Tamara's clouded eyes pop open at the sound of the ball flying out of her hand. She looks down and sees her toe two inches over the foul line. She doesn't even need to turn around to know that Coach Hannigan has likely blinked…probably more than once.

"Tamara," Coach Hannigan says softly. "Come here, please."

And worse, ruined a perfectly good love story. (Source)

Tamara turns around and shuffles back to Coach Hannigan. The coach's stare is as cold and hard as the iceberg that took down the Titanic.

"We have a very tough opponent to face this weekend, as you know," Coach Hannigan begins. She pauses, and Tamara waits for the bad news. "I'm planning on starting you."

Tamara immediately looks up. To her astonishment, Coach Hannigan gives her a brief smirk—the most emotion Tamara has ever seen from her in her two years on the team.

"You're skilled. You've got everything you need. But this," she points to Tamara's head, "is getting in the way. Stop over-thinking. Stop letting outside distractions get to you when you're playing—and that even means me. Be in the right now, right here. Do what you need to do, Tamara, to find your focus."

Tamara nods and turns back to the lane. Before she steps up into position, she takes a deep breath and centers herself, bringing her hands together near her chest and closing her eyes. As she opens them, the fog clears and she takes Warrior pose, one of her favorite yoga positions. Then she strides forward and picks up the ball.

She's got this.