Injuries suck, but the lessons don't.
Why me? Why did I have to injure my foot last season and why did the injury have to recur so painfully as it did again this season? Why the heck me?
Maybe I'll never find out why my path was paved the way it was and maybe I'll never know why I was dealt the hand I was given this season, but somehow, throughout the numerous crying phone calls with my parents, struggles of walking up and down stairs, and long nights of restlessness and excruciating agony, I can take from these moments and my injury some lifelong lessons.
I've never been someone to have a poor attitude or a reason to complain, but when my first day of pre-season started with a recurring injury that just about shifted the trajectory of my soccer career at the conclusion of my sophomore season, I was not a happy camper.
I was in pain... a lot of pain.
Still optimistic, I thought the throbbing in my foot would ease with some treatment and wrapping, but to no avail. As the days passed, I became worse and worse, causing me to walk slanted, which then led to a painful shin injury and limp.
Ignoring the reality of my wound, I showed up to practice, worked as hard as I could, and would return to my apartment in tears from the sharp dagger in which my limb seemed to reside.
"No, I'm fine," I would say to anyone with eyes who could see my evident discomfort. I would not let this nagging injury get the best of me.
But then as the days and practices continued, I wasn't myself. It was obvious I was hurt, was hardly mobile, couldn't react quickly to the ball, and struggled to even hustle, something I had never had a hard time with before.
I was frustrated, angry, confused, pity-filled, envious, and upset. I wasn't the Jessy Holen I had been for 20 years, but that's because I had never been tested in a way like this before. Would I fail or would I succeed at the hurdle life was throwing my way?
Of course I would show up to each and every practice happy as a clam, beaming, hopeful, and bright (I HAD to be strong for my team...I didn't want to let them down...no one had ever known me to be anything but happy and I believed I couldn't show any signs of distress or solemn), but the second I left the field and returned to my room, my reality of this season would sink in and take a turn for the worst.
Due to my trainer and coach's demands, and caution for my foot, I began to only practice 20-45 minutes per session, and play a similar amount of time in the games.
I was losing confidence, losing hope, and behind closed doors, losing my love and happiness for the thing that brought me to Iowa in the first place, soccer. Though hidden from my teammates, I was losing myself. I defined myself as a soccer player and as my play started to tremble, so did my identity. This was mistake number one.
Phone calls home didn't work, venting to my roommates didn't ease my emotions and pain, and being on the field created more stress than it did joy. Who was I becoming? I was currently failing life's test. A big, fat F.
Then amidst my worries and angst, I stumbled upon this Bible verse that changed the course of my season to come.
1 Corinthians 9:24-25 “Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.”
I was playing soccer for myself. I was engulfed in being a good athlete. I was playing soccer because I loved it and it made me happy. I was playing soccer for the glory of starting and hearing my name called over the intercom on a cold fall night and for the feeling of tiredness after busting my butt for 90 minutes straight. I was playing soccer to try to be the best holding mid. I was playing soccer to impress. I was playing soccer for every reason in existence that didn’t correspond with the one reason I was actually supposed to coincide with and represent.
After this harsh recognition, and still many phone calls to California, I began to realize that statistics, the type of soccer player I am, how many goals I score or tackles I make, the headers won and PK’s meticulously placed…none of these things mattered because I was not brought to Coe to play soccer to be some stud athlete and “Hall of Famer.” I realized my presence on the team fell outside of those crimson soccer lines, not within.
My purpose and role in this program is something which cannot be measured, calculated, or tracked on Coe Athletics. I began to understand that even when I was not physically playing in a match, my duty within our team was still evident, vital, and true.
Going from starting every single game, playing 90 minutes constantly, and being an integral player to comprehending my role as an integral person has been a wild roller coaster, but also an enlightening one.
Minutes played, goals scored, and accolades acquired are materialistic and diminish in importance and relevance over time. Being heartfelt, empathetic, a hard worker, optimistic, loyal, encouraging, supportive, and selfless, those are characteristics that last a lifetime and lead to greater rewards and success in life. I will never ever be the best soccer player on Coe’s campus, but I can at least try to be the best possible person.
Throughout the past several months, I have learned that my role is not to win 50/50’s, attack the field with speed, and intercept passes into the backline, although all of those things do, in some way, help my team. My true “position” on this team is to uplift my teammates, provide inspiration and hope, and contribute happiness and fun. I am to be a listening ear, helping hand, and crying shoulder. I am to be an advice giver, kindness-seeker, and love-giver. I am to be a hard worker, resilient soul, and perspective provider.
These are the traits in which I have learned I contribute best to Coe Women’s Soccer…not the physical features in which I will retire in two years when I graduate.
No one ever remembers a goal scored or awesome through ball pass made, but they do remember how you made them feel and the impact you had on their life. This outlook is one that has forever changed my understanding of myself.
So yes, being hurt sucks and it’s hard to sit the sidelines and watch my team work hard and have fun on the field, but while those players are improving to make the materialistic features of our team stronger, I am consistently working to make us better people, too.
We each have our own role on whatever team we are on. Sometimes we recognize our duties on our own and sometimes we need a kick in the butt, or in this case a gimpy limb, to make us realize our true purpose and existence.
While my foot and shin may be weak, my love and admiration for my team is strong as ever (which, in all honesty, I never thought could ever grow more than what it amounted to before).
Maybe I'll never find out why my path was paved the way it was and maybe I'll never know why I was dealt the hand I was given this season, but somehow, throughout the numerous crying phone calls with my parents, struggles of walking up and down stairs, and long nights of restlessness and excruciating agony, I can take from these moments and my injury some lifelong lessons.
I've never been someone to have a poor attitude or a reason to complain, but when my first day of pre-season started with a recurring injury that just about shifted the trajectory of my soccer career at the conclusion of my sophomore season, I was not a happy camper.
I was in pain... a lot of pain.
Still optimistic, I thought the throbbing in my foot would ease with some treatment and wrapping, but to no avail. As the days passed, I became worse and worse, causing me to walk slanted, which then led to a painful shin injury and limp.
Ignoring the reality of my wound, I showed up to practice, worked as hard as I could, and would return to my apartment in tears from the sharp dagger in which my limb seemed to reside.
"No, I'm fine," I would say to anyone with eyes who could see my evident discomfort. I would not let this nagging injury get the best of me.
But then as the days and practices continued, I wasn't myself. It was obvious I was hurt, was hardly mobile, couldn't react quickly to the ball, and struggled to even hustle, something I had never had a hard time with before.
I was frustrated, angry, confused, pity-filled, envious, and upset. I wasn't the Jessy Holen I had been for 20 years, but that's because I had never been tested in a way like this before. Would I fail or would I succeed at the hurdle life was throwing my way?
Of course I would show up to each and every practice happy as a clam, beaming, hopeful, and bright (I HAD to be strong for my team...I didn't want to let them down...no one had ever known me to be anything but happy and I believed I couldn't show any signs of distress or solemn), but the second I left the field and returned to my room, my reality of this season would sink in and take a turn for the worst.
Due to my trainer and coach's demands, and caution for my foot, I began to only practice 20-45 minutes per session, and play a similar amount of time in the games.
I was losing confidence, losing hope, and behind closed doors, losing my love and happiness for the thing that brought me to Iowa in the first place, soccer. Though hidden from my teammates, I was losing myself. I defined myself as a soccer player and as my play started to tremble, so did my identity. This was mistake number one.
Phone calls home didn't work, venting to my roommates didn't ease my emotions and pain, and being on the field created more stress than it did joy. Who was I becoming? I was currently failing life's test. A big, fat F.
Then amidst my worries and angst, I stumbled upon this Bible verse that changed the course of my season to come.
1 Corinthians 9:24-25 “Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.”
I was playing soccer for myself. I was engulfed in being a good athlete. I was playing soccer because I loved it and it made me happy. I was playing soccer for the glory of starting and hearing my name called over the intercom on a cold fall night and for the feeling of tiredness after busting my butt for 90 minutes straight. I was playing soccer to try to be the best holding mid. I was playing soccer to impress. I was playing soccer for every reason in existence that didn’t correspond with the one reason I was actually supposed to coincide with and represent.
After this harsh recognition, and still many phone calls to California, I began to realize that statistics, the type of soccer player I am, how many goals I score or tackles I make, the headers won and PK’s meticulously placed…none of these things mattered because I was not brought to Coe to play soccer to be some stud athlete and “Hall of Famer.” I realized my presence on the team fell outside of those crimson soccer lines, not within.
My purpose and role in this program is something which cannot be measured, calculated, or tracked on Coe Athletics. I began to understand that even when I was not physically playing in a match, my duty within our team was still evident, vital, and true.
Going from starting every single game, playing 90 minutes constantly, and being an integral player to comprehending my role as an integral person has been a wild roller coaster, but also an enlightening one.
Minutes played, goals scored, and accolades acquired are materialistic and diminish in importance and relevance over time. Being heartfelt, empathetic, a hard worker, optimistic, loyal, encouraging, supportive, and selfless, those are characteristics that last a lifetime and lead to greater rewards and success in life. I will never ever be the best soccer player on Coe’s campus, but I can at least try to be the best possible person.
Throughout the past several months, I have learned that my role is not to win 50/50’s, attack the field with speed, and intercept passes into the backline, although all of those things do, in some way, help my team. My true “position” on this team is to uplift my teammates, provide inspiration and hope, and contribute happiness and fun. I am to be a listening ear, helping hand, and crying shoulder. I am to be an advice giver, kindness-seeker, and love-giver. I am to be a hard worker, resilient soul, and perspective provider.
These are the traits in which I have learned I contribute best to Coe Women’s Soccer…not the physical features in which I will retire in two years when I graduate.
No one ever remembers a goal scored or awesome through ball pass made, but they do remember how you made them feel and the impact you had on their life. This outlook is one that has forever changed my understanding of myself.
So yes, being hurt sucks and it’s hard to sit the sidelines and watch my team work hard and have fun on the field, but while those players are improving to make the materialistic features of our team stronger, I am consistently working to make us better people, too.
We each have our own role on whatever team we are on. Sometimes we recognize our duties on our own and sometimes we need a kick in the butt, or in this case a gimpy limb, to make us realize our true purpose and existence.
While my foot and shin may be weak, my love and admiration for my team is strong as ever (which, in all honesty, I never thought could ever grow more than what it amounted to before).