KIMIKO
HIRAI SOLDATI
OFFICIAL SITE
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OFFICIAL SITE |
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Taking the Plunge
Standing in a t-position on the end of a three-meter diving board, Kimiko Soldati is all taut muscles and concentration. After a moment of complete stillness, the 30-year-old Olympic hopeful diver expertly twists and contorts her body in the air, then glides into the water in a straight, sleek line. When she resurfaces, her coach, Kenny Armstrong, shouts, "So good!" Then he adds, "But don't forget to keep your head neutral at the very beginning." Her face still a picture of focus and determination, Kimiko swims over to the poolside television monitor that plays videotaped footage of her latest dive. Then she climbs out of the pool, towels off, and stands in line behind her training teammates to do it all over again. Her husband of four years, Adam, watches poolside as he awaits the arrival of the younger divers he coaches.
This is how Kimiko spends eight hours a day, every day except Sunday and competition days, with her seven teammates—including Laura Wilkinson, the 2000 Olympic platform gold medalist— at the prestigious The Woodlands Athletic Center nestled in the northern suburbs of Houston, Texas. The fruit of all this labor: Kimiko was the 2002 U.S. National Champion in the three-meter springboard, the 2002 World Cup silver medalist in the ten-meter platform, the recipient of the Women's All-Around Award at the 2001 Indoor Nationals, and the first female to advance to the finals of all five diving events at the 2000 Outdoor Nationals. She's been named U.S. Diving Athlete of the Year and has been featured in Sports Illustrated multiple times, and she's one of a select few divers sponsored by Speedo. Not bad for someone who fell into diving by chance. Kimiko's original passion was gymnastics, but a serious knee injury in the ninth grade ended that dream. Her father suggested she switch to diving, and she took to it, well, like a fish to water. But life hasn't always been podiums and medals for Kimiko. Three years after her life-changing injury, she lost her mom to breast cancer. In college, she developed an eating disorder. And since then, she's been plagued by serious shoulder injuries.
But it wasn't any of these tough situations that drove her to faith in Christ. Rather, it was the peace she saw in her fellow divers, believers who didn't wrestle with the extreme anxiety she felt trying to achieve perfection in a sport where mere millimeters separate medal winners from those who go home from competitions empty-handed. Though she was intrigued by their faith, the concept of surrender was too difficult for one who won many awards for her ability to be in control. In this exclusive TCW interview, Kimiko shares what finally moved her to place her life in Jesus' hands three years ago, the vision she had that keeps her from taking it back again, the eating disorder she still battles at times, and the real reason she hopes to be in Athens at the Summer Olympics.
Though diving was Plan B for you, it sounds as though it helped lead you to Christ. The best thing about my sport is I met Christ through it. It seems obvious how God used it to bring me to him. If I hadn't hurt my knee, I wouldn't have gotten into diving. If I hadn't gotten into diving, I wouldn't have moved to Texas to train with my coach, Kenny, and been around all these Christians. Actually, Kenny was the first person who asked me if I believed in Jesus. I'm embarrassed to admit it now, but I laughed and responded, "No, I don't need that. I don't need anybody." I was such a control freak. Do you have to be a control freak to be a world-class athlete? Yes, especially in such a controlled sport where judges pay attention to the angle of your feet, the tilt of your head. And to make it to the Olympics, it all comes down to one diving meet. The pressure is huge, and my intense need for control was getting the best of me. How so? My anxiety level was off the charts. Then when I suffered shoulder injuries and had multiple surgeries a few years ago, I was an absolute mess. This was before I became a Christian and diving wasn't just something I did, it was who I was. When the injuries took diving away from me for a while, I went into a tailspin and suffered deep depression. When I recovered and began training with my new Christian teammates, who seemed peaceful no matter what, I took notice. I wanted that kind of peace. I needed that kind of peace. And they said it came from knowing Jesus. What was your response? I was skeptical at first. But when I saw them living out their faith day in and day out, it had a huge impact on me. Also at the time, my husband, who was traveling a similar faith journey with me, and I were living with some family friends, a couple who graciously opened their home to us that first year we were in Texas. They, too, were strong Christians and also provided a day-to-day example of Christlikeness. My husband and I started going to church with them and reading the Bible. I'd only gone to church a handful of times when I was growing up, and I had no idea you could have a relationship with Jesus. God was working on my heart, but when they'd give an altar call at the end of the church services, I'd sit on my hands, thinking, No, I can't give up control. It was too much of a stretch from how I lived my life. How did the Christians in your life respond to your reluctance? The couple we lived with answered countless questions about Christianity. I was pretty brutal. But they remained open, loving, and nonjudgmental. The people who influenced me most were the ones who simply lived their lives as Christlike as they could. The peace they knew spoke volumes to me. They invited my husband and me to church, but didn't bug us about it. They simply were open to any questions we had. If they didn't know something, they were honest enough to say, "I don't know." I wasn't looking for someone who had all the answers, I was looking for Truth. What finally prompted you to become a Christian? All the conversations, church services, Bible passages, talks with our pastor, and observations of Christians in my life moved me toward that decision. Finally, one Sunday my husband and I raised our hands at that altar call. We said the prayer to become a Christian, and my first thought was, This is it? I didn't feel any different. And I had many of the same questions as before I'd prayed. How did you make peace with that? The main question I had was what it meant to give God control of my life. About three months after I became a Christian, I found my answer through what I can only describe as a vision. I was on an airplane traveling to the Nationals, silently praying, and I got a vision that I was underground frantically trying to dig a tunnel with my hands. Suddenly I realized there was someone standing next to me; it was Jesus. I thought, That's nice, but let me get back to work. After digging a while longer, I got tired and noticed Jesus was holding a shovel. So I said, "OK, I'll take your shovel. Thanks. Now, get out of my way; I need to get back to work." Things were definitely easier after accepting his help, but eventually I got tired again. I turned to Jesus, and he was holding his hands out to me. His eyes communicated, Give me the shovel. I cried and told him I was scared. What if he changed the direction of my tunnel? I threw a lot of "what ifs" at him, and he just stood there smiling as if to say, It's OK to be scared. But you can trust me. Eventually I let go of my shovel and said, "You take it and forge this tunnel; I'll follow you." By then I was bawling. The guy next to me on the plane thought I was a lunatic. Finally, I had a picture of what it means to let God be in control of your life. It's not me leading my life and seeking God's blessing, it's me letting him lead, trusting his direction, and obediently following him. Do you still struggle with control issues? Yes! Sometimes I'm ashamed to realize I've booted Christ out of the way again. But God is so patient. He waits until I realize what I've done and I turn back to him. The times when I'm able to let God be in control, it's wonderful. For example, I had another shoulder surgery last year. This time the process was so different, so peaceful. I still was frustrated I couldn't dive, but it brought me closer to God because it was a tangible reminder I'm not in control. I had to trust God's will, whether that meant I would heal or not, return to diving or not, make the Olympic team or not, win a gold medal or not. My job is to trust him whatever the outcome. That's such a huge change for me. Have people noticed the change in you? My family certainly has. I was a bit of a partier, used some rough language, and was anxious all the time. I still have much room to grow, but now I'm nicer, gentler, more peaceful. It's difficult for them to understand since they aren't believers. It must be tough being the only Christian in your family. I've spoken pretty boldly about what I believe. Some of them are like, "Good for you. If you need that, then that's great." I pray and trust my life will be an example of what Christ can do. That's another area I have to turn over to God. I can't change anyone. I simply have to trust the Holy Spirit to change their hearts. Being the only Christian in my family makes me even more thankful for teammates who are believers. Do you and your teammates pray together? We get together for Bible study whenever our crazy schedules allow. And we pray together poolside before competitions. The other divers notice that. In fact, our team's gotten a reputation for being Jesus Freaks. But we don't mind. One reason we feel called to this sport is that there are so many people in the diving community who aren't saved. I feel blessed to be able to show people the change Christ has made in my life. One of the greatest rewards of my sport is getting to be a Christian role model. I receive e-mails from young divers, and I get to share God with them. I used to think I was in this sport to win a gold medal, but I don't believe that anymore. I believe there's a reason why I have these abilities—to be able to travel across the world for diving competitions and share my faith. The Bible tells us to go to the nations with the Good News. At our competitions, the nations are there. What an opportunity! When do you find out if you're going to the Olympics? In June. Ours is one of the last sports to finalize our Olympic team. Again, I have to rely on God in that situation because it's too overwhelming to deal with on my own. This kind of pressure used to make me an anxious mess. Now I give the whole situation to God. There's such freedom in that! Another area you've struggled with is an eating disorder. When did it begin? In college I began to battle both anorexia and bulimia. It's difficult in the diving community. You're in a swimsuit alone on a platform for everyone to see, and you're being judged. You're expected to be thin, but it's not an aerobic sport, so you're not working your way to a lean body just by participating. Most coaches are male and aren't always sensitive to the messages they send. All these factors add up to a lot of women in my sport struggling with eating disorders. What prompted you to get some help? My college roommates confronted me. I was angry about that at the time, but I'm grateful now because I know they did it out of love. I checked into an eight-week outpatient program for eating disorders, and through that program I realized my problem was largely emotional. How so? The first time I met with my counselor, I told him, "I don't have emotions." I thought emotions were for weak people, and since I was so in control of my life, they weren't for me. But obviously we all have emotions, and in the process of getting help I realized I hadn't allowed myself to grieve my mother's death a few years earlier, when I was 17. Had she been sick for a long time? My mom battled breast cancer for ten years. But she never dwelled on her cancer; she simply embraced life while she could. Probably the most meaningful thing she did was leave notes and gifts for my father to give me on milestone days in my life, such as my 18th birthday or my wedding day. I bawl my eyes out every time I open them. She knew she wouldn't see my wedding. She could have been grieving that, but instead chose to find a way to make the day special for me. I try to celebrate that giving spirit whenever I think of her. But obviously you had to grieve her death at some point. Strangely enough, going through the outpatient treatment for my eating disorder finally helped me grieve my loss. I had to face the fact I do have emotions, and they aren't a bad thing. What else was necessary for your healing process? I had to combat the lies that are so easy to believe: that I have to be thin to be accepted or to win a medal. That food is evil. I still battle these thoughts. But now I can ask God to renew my mind. I know my worth is based on the fact I'm a child of God. I can talk about this issue with others in my sport who may be similarly struggling. I'm not perfect, but I know God's grace is sufficient. I've seen the change that grace has made in my life. For more information about Kimiko Soldati, visit her website, www.kimiko-usa.com. Copyright © 2004 by the
author or Christianity Today International/Today's Christian Woman magazine. |
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