It was twenty-five minutes into the soccer game when it happened. I was head to head racing against my opponent, both of us sprinting towards the ball. I planted my foot to change direction and pass my opponent, something I had done thousands of times in my life, guided more by instinct. That’s when I felt it. A gut-wrenching snap in my right knee, that put me to the turf instantly!

Laying on the bench with an ice pack around my leg and the assurances of my coach that it was only minor, I began to think perhaps I had simply sprained my knee or something less. I had been terrified of tearing my ACL as several of my friends had done just a few months early, so I was well aware of the consequences of receiving such an injury. I knew an MRI would be the definitive answer.

“You’ve completely torn your ACL,” said the doctor. “Not to mention you have a pretty severe tear in your meniscus. At your age, it’s recommended that we schedule a reconstruction surgery. You won’t be playing soccer anytime soon.”

Torn. With those few words, my very worst fears were realized, I spent the remainder of the day numb, unable to truly process what this meant for the next year of my life. Soccer had become such an integral part of my identity that I had no idea what I could possibly do with my life now that it was gone. In the naivety of youth, my senior year had meant everything to me, and I believed it, as well as the rest of my life to be ruined. In the weeks following, I anticipated my first ever surgery, an event that left me depressed, dreading the massive recovery process even more so than the surgery itself. It felt like an insurmountable obstacle, one that I could never have the strength to overcome.

I was floored by the immense support I received from friends and family, continuing in the weeks following surgery when I was at my lowest. Even a visit or text from a friend brightened my day and gave me the strength to recognize that the worst will pass. I suddenly found myself with a new perspective on life, one where a game such as soccer seemed almost silly when compared to my health. I knew at that moment that I wasn’t going to attempt playing soccer for a long time even when I got healthy, and I found that I was okay with that.

Though my sudden injury stripped away any possibility of fulfilling a lifelong goal, it also presented me with a new goal; working hard to recover from surgery. I was committed to bringing my leg back to its previous strength. The constant work and improvement of the physical therapy process gave me something tangible to look positively towards.

Despite my injury and disappointment, I continued to work hard in the aspects of my life I had control over, without dwelling on the unfortunate events. Though I still missed being out on the field with my team, I could still go and support my friends without resentment or longing for something that was unattainable. To me, there was so much more to life than a sport.