Life Narrative
My experience with a major injury as a college athlete
Life Narrative
The Journey of a Lifetime: From the Field to RecoveryI’ve been an athlete for as long as I can remember, diving into sports when I was just 9 years old. Growing up, I was the kid who was always on the move, playing football, basketball, lacrosse, and track. The adrenaline rush, the competition, the camaraderie—I lived for it all. Sure, I had my fair share of sprains and bruises, but nothing ever kept me off the field for too long. That is, until the 2022 football season.
I was coming off a great season, riding high on the excitement of what was to come. I remember eagerly counting down the days to game-day, mentally preparing myself for what would be my first collegiate game. As fall camp kicked off, it was two grueling weeks of non-stop football. From sunrise to sunset, it was all about the game—meetings, team building, drills—we were all in it together, grinding hard to get ready for the season ahead.
After surviving the intensity of fall camp, game week finally arrived. The coaches were finalizing the game plan, and I could feel the excitement bubbling up inside me. It was the Tuesday before our first game, and I was feeling both excited and nervous. The thought of finally stepping onto the field, not just as a spectator on the sidelines but as a player, was exhilarating.
Practice that day started like any other. About 30 minutes in, we were running through our usual drills, and I felt good—really good. Then, it was time for a 7-on-7 drill. I was lined up across from the wide receiver, eyes locked on his hips, ready to mirror his every move. The ball was snapped, and the receiver made a quick move to his left before cutting right. I mirrored his every step, keeping up with him stride for stride. As I looked up to track the ball, I knew it was coming our way. In my mind, I thought, “This ball is mine.”
We both jumped to catch the pass, but I got my hands on it first. The thrill of securing the catch was short-lived. As I landed, I felt a sharp pop in my knee, followed by intense pain. I hit the ground hard, and my first thought was, “Why does this have to happen now?” The trainers rushed over, took off my helmet, and began evaluating the situation. I could barely bend my leg.
They helped me off the field and into the athletic training room, where they ran a series of tests on my knee. Pushing it this way and that, they suspected a torn MCL, but I needed an MRI to confirm it. Thursday rolled around, and I got the MRI. The following Monday, I sat anxiously in the training room, waiting for the results. My mind raced with thoughts of what the diagnosis might mean for my season, for my future as an athlete.
The doctor finally called me in and delivered the news I dreaded—a fully torn MCL, along with some other minor knee damage. My season was over before it even began. The weight of the news hit me hard, and my mind spiraled with questions: How would I get through this? What would the recovery be like? Would I ever get back to 100 percent? I had never missed this much time before, and the uncertainty was crushing.
The recovery process was long and grueling. I spent six weeks in a straight-leg knee brace, and every day was a battle. Some days, I felt like I was making progress; other days, it seemed like I’d never play again. The hardest part wasn’t the physical pain—it was the mental toll. Not knowing if I’d ever be the same player again weighed heavily on me. During rehab, I couldn’t jump like I used to, I was running slower, and I just didn’t feel like myself. But my therapist kept reassuring me that everything would be okay.
In the end, it was. I fought my way back, pushing through the doubts and setbacks, and I eventually returned to the level of play I was used to. This experience taught me two important lessons: first, no one is invincible—injuries are just part of the game. Second, and perhaps more importantly, it taught me the power of mental strength. I had to fight to keep negative thoughts at bay and focus on what I needed to do to get back on the field.
Looking back, I realize that this injury, as tough as it was, made me stronger—not just physically, but mentally as well. It was a reminder that setbacks are a part of life, but with resilience and determination, you can overcome them and come out stronger on the other side.
I was coming off a great season, riding high on the excitement of what was to come. I remember eagerly counting down the days to game-day, mentally preparing myself for what would be my first collegiate game. As fall camp kicked off, it was two grueling weeks of non-stop football. From sunrise to sunset, it was all about the game—meetings, team building, drills—we were all in it together, grinding hard to get ready for the season ahead.
After surviving the intensity of fall camp, game week finally arrived. The coaches were finalizing the game plan, and I could feel the excitement bubbling up inside me. It was the Tuesday before our first game, and I was feeling both excited and nervous. The thought of finally stepping onto the field, not just as a spectator on the sidelines but as a player, was exhilarating.
Practice that day started like any other. About 30 minutes in, we were running through our usual drills, and I felt good—really good. Then, it was time for a 7-on-7 drill. I was lined up across from the wide receiver, eyes locked on his hips, ready to mirror his every move. The ball was snapped, and the receiver made a quick move to his left before cutting right. I mirrored his every step, keeping up with him stride for stride. As I looked up to track the ball, I knew it was coming our way. In my mind, I thought, “This ball is mine.”
We both jumped to catch the pass, but I got my hands on it first. The thrill of securing the catch was short-lived. As I landed, I felt a sharp pop in my knee, followed by intense pain. I hit the ground hard, and my first thought was, “Why does this have to happen now?” The trainers rushed over, took off my helmet, and began evaluating the situation. I could barely bend my leg.
They helped me off the field and into the athletic training room, where they ran a series of tests on my knee. Pushing it this way and that, they suspected a torn MCL, but I needed an MRI to confirm it. Thursday rolled around, and I got the MRI. The following Monday, I sat anxiously in the training room, waiting for the results. My mind raced with thoughts of what the diagnosis might mean for my season, for my future as an athlete.
The doctor finally called me in and delivered the news I dreaded—a fully torn MCL, along with some other minor knee damage. My season was over before it even began. The weight of the news hit me hard, and my mind spiraled with questions: How would I get through this? What would the recovery be like? Would I ever get back to 100 percent? I had never missed this much time before, and the uncertainty was crushing.
The recovery process was long and grueling. I spent six weeks in a straight-leg knee brace, and every day was a battle. Some days, I felt like I was making progress; other days, it seemed like I’d never play again. The hardest part wasn’t the physical pain—it was the mental toll. Not knowing if I’d ever be the same player again weighed heavily on me. During rehab, I couldn’t jump like I used to, I was running slower, and I just didn’t feel like myself. But my therapist kept reassuring me that everything would be okay.
In the end, it was. I fought my way back, pushing through the doubts and setbacks, and I eventually returned to the level of play I was used to. This experience taught me two important lessons: first, no one is invincible—injuries are just part of the game. Second, and perhaps more importantly, it taught me the power of mental strength. I had to fight to keep negative thoughts at bay and focus on what I needed to do to get back on the field.
Looking back, I realize that this injury, as tough as it was, made me stronger—not just physically, but mentally as well. It was a reminder that setbacks are a part of life, but with resilience and determination, you can overcome them and come out stronger on the other side.