What’s the Right Sport?

Are you thinking about extracurriculars to enhance a future application? Or something simpler and more enduring, like a lifelong rhythm your child will carry into adulthood?

Whether your goals span four or five years or stretch across decades, athleticism shapes more than just the body. It teaches rhythm, resilience, and regulation. It offers a form of expression that does not require words. Perhaps we will speak another time about how to sharpen a student profile through extracurriculars. Today, I want to begin with a simpler question. What makes a good fit?

What nurtures interest and sustains it? What aligns with a student’s temperament and body? What draws them back, even when no one is watching. What cultivates a sense of quiet resilience? What environments help them find kindred spirits? Right now, the goal is not to identify the most prestigious sport, but to discover a rhythm that holds.

Following Curiosity into Curling

I have always followed curiosity. Whether it was a subject in school or an unfamiliar sport, something in me has been drawn to try and understand what feels just out of reach.

When I first arrived in Canada, I became fascinated with curling. It reminded me of a large-scale version of air hockey, but played on ice. The opening move set the tone of the match. Two teams took turns. The outcome unfolded in sequence, shaped by performance, coordination, communication, and even the subtle character of the ice itself.

Curling taught me to ask different kinds of questions. Where do we want the next rock to land? How realistic is that target, given the texture of the surface? How do we communicate with sweepers while the stone is already in motion? It was measured, tactical, and layered. And I liked that.

Learning to Let Go of the Clock

Later, in university, curling facilities became harder to access. I began exploring other sports such as judo, soccer, and a few more in between. Some never felt right. I learned to recognize a certain tension in myself. When I caught my mind counting down minutes until the session would end, I understood that no amount of discipline could compensate for misalignment.

Some sports also carried a high bar for adult beginners. At eighteen, I felt that gap acutely. But then I tried climbing. In hindsight, it makes sense that it stayed with me. Like curling, climbing could be enjoyed without overthinking. If you were strong, you could muscle through certain routes. But it was more rewarding when approached with strategy, timing, and attention to detail.

I am still learning. I am learning to lead less with brute force and more with tactics. I am learning to stop relying on upper body strength as a crutch. I am learning that brute force often ends in injury or premature descent. As I watch how others complete their routes, I think about how to adapt that routine to my own. Climbing fits my temperament.

When I was younger, I liked to sit with a problem. Think it through and then imagine three ways to approach it. These days, I am less concerned with the perfect solution and more interested in a series of good decisions made with steadiness. Climbing makes space for that kind of thinking. It welcomes both creativity and adaptation.

Returning to the Ground: Lifting

The one form of movement that has stayed with me the longest is lifting.

When I was younger, I trained for hypertrophy. I pushed myself to grow stronger, to test my limits, to see how far I could go. But now, my focus has shifted. I am more interested in pacing, in mobility, in staying present.

Just as no two teachers lead in the same way, each trainer opens a different kind of conversation. Some speak in numbers. Some in form. Some offer a kind of presence that teaches before words are spoken.

As in the classroom, communication matters. A thoughtful trainer will ask about your injury history, your current capacity, and your future goals. They carry not only technical knowledge but also the discernment to meet you where you are. And perhaps most importantly, they know how to translate that into something you can feel and understand. In muscles, and also in connection to the mind.

You are not simply going through the motions. You are learning from someone who lives the practice. Who teaches through the choices they make. Who invites you to see your own body, and your own limits, more clearly. And that's also the learning environment I envision to create for others.