My Heart Is Full
The Bears had another great week of school, training, and competition. Our boys earned a dominant NPSL wrestling dual win on Thursday night, then loaded into Durangos and headed south to Portland on Friday with 27 athletes to compete at the Rose City Championships at Westview High School.
I love this tournament. Each team is allowed to bring two scorers per weight, and we square off against some of the top schools from Washington, Oregon, and California. We traditionally perform well and usually finish as the top Washington school, but we had never won the event.
This year was different.
The boys competed with passion and purpose. We came to win—mission accomplished. We finished with eight placers, four champions, and the tournament’s Outstanding Wrestler, Bryson Dawley, en route to a team championship. Beyond wrestling lights-out, the staff and kids had a lot of fun competing and cheering on their teammates.
We also had our annual visit from Blue Santa for Santa pics and candy canes—because big kids love Santa too. This sport is too much work not to have a little fun and keep the vibe loose during events. Besides, I love wearing the Santa suit and handing out candy to the big and little kids at tournaments. At first, I get some funny looks, but by the second round of the day, folks get used to Blue Santa coaching in the corner and walking the halls handing out candy to high school wrestlers and their elementary-aged brothers and sisters.
I spent the day making kids smile, taking pictures with families, wrestlers, and little kids, and wishing everyone a Merry Christmas. I had a blast, and though I was tired by the time I got home at 1:00 a.m., my heart was full. Joy is a powerful emotion.
According to the dictionary, an emotion is “a natural instinctive state of mind deriving from one’s circumstances, mood, or relationships with others.” I have always considered myself a very emotionally aware person. Even as a boy, I could “read the room” quickly and accurately, which gave me insight into the people I was engaging with. This “Spidey sense” has served me well as an educator and coach over the years.
One of my primary roles as a coach—teacher—mentor—administrator is working to understand what people need in order to be at their best. Oftentimes, our people are unsure of what they need or even how to articulate it in the moment. Tapping into my Spidey sense often allows me to move quickly toward the right level of support for my athletes and others.
Yet, as much as emotional awareness is an asset, it can also be a challenge. Being an emotional (sensitive) person, I wear my heart on my sleeve. I am quick to cry and equally quick to experience joy. I can’t even watch a Subaru commercial without tearing up—the one where a father finds a prom flower in the back seat and flashes back to his beautiful six-year-old princess gets me every time.
Lately, I’ve been trying to get better at identifying the what and why of my own emotions. For the past fifteen years, I’ve often said to my team or inner circle, “My heart is full.” I’ve reflected a lot on that saying this week—what it really means when I tell a group or an individual that my heart is full.
This past Monday’s practice didn’t feel great. We were not meeting our team-family expectations for effort and attitude. While many of us were on point, collectively our energy and vibe were off. On the drive home, I decided that instead of feeling disappointed, I would have conversations with a few of the boys about their personal “recipe for success” in the practice room—and the bigger picture: Why are you here? What do you want to do, young man? How can I help you?
Those conversations went well on Tuesday, and from start to finish, our next practice had a completely different energy. It’s amazing how a small number of individuals on a team can influence the synergy of the whole—for better or worse. Tuesday’s practice was a two-shirt wringer, and the energy was impressive. I found myself thanking the boys and acknowledging that the level of effort, focus, and care was higher than I’d seen in a while.
“Boys, my heart is full.”
Though the squad didn’t fully understand what I meant, it was clear that I was happy and emotionally in high spirits. On the ride home, I reflected again and realized I needed a clearer understanding of why I felt that way and how to articulate it. I recently committed to purposeful and consistent reflection of my emotions and feelings. I might better understand who I am and why I feel certain ways in a moment of time. The truth is, our hearts are always full—and to some extent, we get to choose what we fill them with. I want to have the capacity to hold onto the positive emotions that help me perform as my best self while managing and understanding feelings that are limiting and hold me back.
Recently, I came across Proverbs 4:23: “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” I immediately thought of my young friend, Austin Mikalski after reading 4:23.
A few weeks ago, Greg—Austin’s father—sent me a picture of Austin and me at the Tacoma Dome in 2016 as he prepared to wrestle, and win, his third-place match. Austin would go on to become a four-time placer for us and one of the best I have ever coached. I don’t remember what I was saying to him at that moment, but I do remember patting him on the back with one hand while placing my other hand over his heart.
Our shared journey began with wrestling but grew into a relationship rooted in respect, gratitude, and love. He is family to us and I am so grateful for that gift.
Like most journeys in life, the road wasn’t always smooth. During Austin’s junior year, in that same dome, we hit a rough patch. Austin took a tough loss in the semifinals and struggled to bounce back. Like many young men I’ve coached, the emotional response to a dream deferred threatened to derail the rest of his state run.
Since day one of my coaching career, I’ve preached the expectation of chasing “the next best thing.” Whether we’re down big in a match or bumped to the backside of a bracket, we must recenter, refocus our energy, and pursue the next position, the next point, the next place—the next best thing we can do for ourselves, our team, and our community. There’s no time for regret or sadness when competing. Our opponents don’t care about our feelings at that moment.
This concept is far easier said than lived—especially for a teenage boy whose lifelong dream was extinguished in six short minutes. With little time before his next match, Austin remained distraught and unable to focus. I tried every Coach Feist strategy I had to bring him back. Finally, I pulled him in for one last hug, popped him in the chest, and said, “Wake the **** up and stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
He did wake up and fought his way back to place third, but the tough approach was not what he needed at that moment—and it fractured our relationship. Though I made amends and finished the season and his senior year on good terms, things were never quite the same.
Going into his senior year, we hit another rough patch when we both lost a boy we loved suddenly and tragically. After we lost Kione and Austin graduated, we drifted apart for a while—each continuing our journeys separately, both trying to heal broken hearts.
For a long time, I believed there was a hole in my heart—that I would never be the man I was supposed to be and could be. I realize now that wasn’t true. My heart was always full—just full of the wrong things. Regret, sadness, anxiety, and fear can feel heavy and all-consuming. For over two years, I stopped saying, “My heart is full.”
Like Austin, it took me time to heal. And like Austin, the more I allowed light, love, and positive energy from friends, family, and community into my heart, the better I became—for myself and for others.
Two years ago, I ran into Austin at a local freestyle tournament in Fife. He was coaching his little brother and was full of positive energy, light, and love. Seeing him smile at me from across the mat meant more than he knew. When I went to shake his hand, he pulled me into a hug—and I was grateful.
As we caught up, I learned that he and his good friend Steve had been coaching kids from the Kent area and loving every minute of it. Before long, Austin, Steve, and his little brother Blake were back in my freestyle club, in my barn, and in my life—wrestling, coaching, and living fully. Rebuilding that bond was not only healing but helped fill my heart with the right ingredients and positive emotions.
Though the rough patches were among the hardest experiences I’ve ever processed, I am grateful for all of it. I am forever changed by both the good and the hard and I have come to believe that to exist is the greatest gift I have ever received. To be human, with free will and choice, is extraordinary. All of it is a gift and If I am to be truly grateful for the experiences that fill me with light and love, I must also be grateful for the ones I wish had never happened. There are always two sides of the coin—I can’t control which side lands, but I can control how I respond.
I can choose to dwell on the hard, or I can accept it and move forward, embracing the many blessings in my life. I can be anxious about the damage to my roof—or grateful that Kerstin and I own a home and have the means to repair it. I am working to be more reflective, intentional, and mindful about what I allow into my heart.
Recently, Austin told me that he and his girlfriend would be moving to Arkansas to begin a new adventure together. While I was a bit bummed at first knowing my friend would be halfway across the country, I quickly shifted to joy and gratitude. I’m excited for the adventure he’s embarked on and can’t wait to reconnect and hear the stories. I’m also deeply grateful for the recent time we’ve spent together and for the new friends he’s brought into our wrestling family.
My heart is full, and I’m looking forward to moving into this holiday season with friends and family so I might help bring love, light, and joy into their hearts as well.
Merry Christmas my firends!
Yours in wrestling,
Coach Feist