What Wearing the Uniform Does Not Show
- Peyton Smith
- Feb 4
- 3 min read
My junior year was when being a student athlete stopped feeling abstract and started feeling real. At the end of my freshman year, my parents told me they could still help cheer, but that it was going to become more of my responsibility. Not as a punishment. Not because they did not care. It was intentional. It was about independence. At the time, I understood it in theory, but not in practice.
I ended up taking a year off from cheer. During that break, I did not fully grasp what that responsibility would actually look like. I was not budgeting for dues. I was not planning my work schedule around practices. I was not saving for travel, gear, or competition costs. Coming back made it impossible to ignore.
The moment it really hit me was after making one of the final payments for the season. Not because I regretted it, but because I could not stop thinking about how much I had put into cheer for one opportunity. One chance to prove that we deserve to be at NCA. One shot at hitting a clean routine with zero deductions. And if everything aligns perfectly, maybe even bringing home a national title.
That pressure is motivating. It keeps me going on days when I am tired or stretched thin. But it is also heavy. Once the responsibility becomes yours, every dollar spent starts to feel like something you have to justify.
People romanticize being a student athlete. They picture free gear, paid travel, built-in support systems, flexible schedules, and endless resources. What people do not realize is that many spirit athletes do not fall under the athletic department at their schools. That means no scholarships, no tutors, no priority scheduling, and no automatic financial backing. You wear the same logo, represent the same university, but operate under very different conditions.
I have heard it all.
It must be nice having everything paid for.
You probably do not even do your own work because you have tutors.
Your schedule must revolve around your practices.
The reality is much quieter.
This year especially, my life has narrowed. I miss a lot of time with my family and friends. Outside of my teammates, I barely have a social life. I work, I sleep, I practice, and I take three online classes, so when I am not at work or at practice, I am doing homework or reading. Even with a minimal schedule, there is not much room left.
The hardest part is not being tired. I do not feel guilty about that. I know I live a busy and demanding life, and I know not everyone can balance it.
The hardest part is needing help.
Asking for help with money. With food. With support. Even when it is offered. Even when it is given willingly. Once responsibility became mine, asking for help started to feel like taking something away from someone else. If I asked for it, it felt like I owed something in return. That guilt sits heavier than exhaustion ever could.
And yet, I love cheer.
I love being part of something bigger than myself. I love being part of a team that feels like a family. I love showing up for people who show up for me. When things feel heavy, it is my teammates who remind me why I stay. They are the reason the sacrifice feels meaningful. They are the reason the pressure feels worth carrying. I hate that it takes time away from my family and friends outside of cheer. I hate that loving it sometimes means missing moments that matter too.
Photo credit: Author
There is a thought I often stop myself from saying out loud. This is so hard. Sometimes I want to quit. I swallow it because pressure is a privilege. Cheering for my university is a privilege. The people I meet, the relationships I build, and the impact we have are privileges. Gratitude lives right next to struggle, even when that is uncomfortable to admit.
What I want people to understand is this. Being a student athlete does not mean your experience mirrors someone else’s. It does not mean things are handed to you. A uniform does not equal financial security. A logo does not guarantee support.
Student athletes are still young adults. We are learning how to manage money, time, relationships, and responsibility while balancing school, work, and expectations. We are proud of what we do, and we are allowed to admit when it is difficult.
Both things can be true.
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