There’s a stretch of time that doesn’t get talked about much.
It’s not when you’re fully in your sport.
And it’s not when you’ve clearly moved on.
It’s the space in between.
The waiting period.
The gap.
You’re still training. Still believing. Still telling yourself you’re one opportunity away. But at the same time, nothing is guaranteed. There’s no schedule telling you what’s next. No clear timeline. No certainty.
Just effort… and waiting.
That combination can mess with you more than you expect.
At first, you stay locked in. You keep your routine, you stay disciplined, you trust that something will come from the work you’re putting in. That mindset carried you this far, so you lean on it again.
But over time, the gap starts to feel longer.
Days turn into weeks. Weeks into months.
And the questions start showing up.
Am I doing enough?
Am I missing something?
Is this actually going to work?
Those thoughts don’t always hit all at once. They come in waves. Some days you feel confident, like everything is lining up. Other days feel heavier, like you’re stuck in place while everything else keeps moving.
That emotional swing can be exhausting.
Part of it comes from the lack of feedback. In sports, you always had something to measure. A game, a stat, a result. You knew where you stood, even if it wasn’t where you wanted to be. There was always something to point to.
In the gap, there’s nothing clear to measure.
You can train well, stay disciplined, do everything right… and still not have anything change immediately. That disconnect between effort and outcome can create doubt, even if you don’t want it to.
And then there’s comparison.
It’s almost unavoidable.
You see other athletes getting opportunities. Signing deals. Moving forward. You see people your age starting careers, building stability, creating momentum in a way that looks more certain. Even if you try not to pay attention, it’s there.
Comparison has a way of making your situation feel smaller, even when you’re doing everything you can.
It makes you question your timing. Your decisions. Your path.
But what’s hard to remember in those moments is that you’re looking at snapshots of other people’s lives, not the full picture. You’re seeing outcomes, not the process behind them. And when you compare your behind-the-scenes to someone else’s highlight, it’s always going to feel like you’re behind.
That’s where the mental side of this phase becomes real.
Because now, it’s not just about staying in shape or staying ready.
It’s about managing your thoughts.
It’s about staying steady when things feel uncertain. It’s about not letting one bad day turn into a bad stretch. It’s about recognizing when your mind is starting to drift into places that don’t help you move forward.
There’s also a level of anxiety that can build in this gap.
Not always obvious, but it’s there.
It shows up in the pressure you put on yourself. The feeling that time is passing. The awareness that you’re investing energy into something that doesn’t have a guaranteed return. That can sit in the back of your mind, even on the days you feel good.
And if you don’t acknowledge it, it can grow.
The instinct for a lot of athletes is to push through it. To ignore it. To treat it like any other obstacle. That approach works in some situations, but this is different.
This isn’t something you outwork in a single session.
It’s something you manage over time.
It starts with being honest about where you are. Not just physically, but mentally. Recognizing that this phase is challenging doesn’t make you weak. It makes you aware. It allows you to handle it instead of letting it build under the surface.
It also requires you to create some form of stability in a situation that doesn’t naturally provide it.
That might come from routine. From giving your day some structure, even when nothing is forcing you to. It might come from staying connected to people who understand what you’re going through, people who can bring you back to center when your mind starts to drift too far.
It might come from stepping away at times, giving yourself space to reset instead of constantly feeling like you have to be “on.”
The key is not letting the gap define you.
Because this phase, as uncomfortable as it is, is not permanent.
It’s a stretch of time where things are unclear, where you’re building without immediate results, where you’re being tested in a different way than you were used to in sports.
And there’s value in that, even if it doesn’t feel like it in the moment.
You’re learning how to handle uncertainty. How to stay disciplined without external pressure. How to manage your thoughts when things aren’t going exactly how you planned.
Those are skills.
Real ones.
The kind that carry over no matter what happens next.
At some point, the gap closes.
An opportunity comes. A decision is made. A new direction forms.
But who you become during this time matters more than the moment itself.
Because this is where you learn how to handle not knowing.
And that might be one of the hardest parts of the entire journey.
