My Torn ACL

Playing sports and excelling at them has always been important to me. I actually remember asking my mom as a child if we would be able to play basketball in heaven because in my mind, heaven didn't seem like that great of a place if we didn't get to play sports!

Not being able to play sports was literally my worst nightmare as a kid. I'm not sure if this is common, but when I was younger, I would attempt to think of the worst thing that could possibly happen to me then fantasize about this contrived, horrible hypothetical situation. As a young person, the worst possible thing that could happen to me, or so I thought, would be if I somehow lost my leg (or legs) and would not be able to run, jump, or play soccer and manhunt ever again. Even my childhood crush(es) doting on me and comforting me, along with all the king's horses and all the king's men, would not be able to console and comfort me in these somewhat twisted daydreams. I would imagine an empty life - one where I wouldn't ever be able to play any sports or have any fun, and one where I was useless and worthless as a person. You see, to me, my greatest quality was not my dashing good looks or intellectual supremacy - it was my above-average athleticism and unparalleled foot speed.

So you can imagine the disappointment and anxiety that flooded my mind when I was sitting on the bench after feeling my knee pop and falling down in excruciating pain, watching my team win the overnight ultimate hat tournament in Grand Rapids. I watched my athletic career flash before my eyes, remembering all the "great" things I had achieved athletically and all the even greater goals and plans I would no longer be able to accomplish. At the time, I didn't know how bad the injury was, but I could only imagine the worst - that I had a torn ACL, and unless I was supernatural and had some Purple Jesus inside of me, I would never be the same again.

All in all, I've been in pretty high spirits despite my injury. Halfway through my 6-week physical therapy rehab, my physical recovery has been promising and I'm naively optimistic about my recovery. After some reflection, I don't think that my athletic ability is a real, powerful idol in my life as it obviously was to a younger me. However, the seemingly fine line between grief and idolization still confuses me. Even though athletic ability no longer determines my self-worth, it is still a large part of my identity, especially among the people I've gotten to know in Fort Wayne, who for the first few weeks of pickup called me "Speedy G" because of my Lumberjacks jersey/shirt that I wore the first time I went. At what point does my fear of athletic inability become reflective of misaligned affections? It's hard to say.

I was hit extremely hard emotionally this week by my injury, perhaps the most emotional I got since the doctor broke the bad news of a completely torn ACL to me. On Tuesday, it was 75 and beautiful out, and the smell of the air just reminded me of ultimate. The smell of warm air and the feeling of the slightly damp, warm breeze - I wish I could more fully describe it to you, but it all just reminded me of ultimate. This is the time of the year that I usually get extremely excited to go outside and play, but this year I can't, especially if I get surgery over the summer. I guess I'll just have to find other things to occupy my time and affections for the next couple months.

Sorry if this post is a bit melo-dramatic. I'm actually doing quite well physically and emotionally most of the time. I guess I just wanted a chance to tell the interesting story of how my worst nightmare as a child actually (kind of) came true!