It is every college athlete’s dream to come in as a freshman and improve each year until he/she is at the top of the conference, or maybe even top of the nation. To say that my running career was not even close to that dream is an understatement.
I came to run at Lipscomb University because of the incredible team culture and ambition to be successful. I committed to help this team build into a program that would become competitive on the NCAA Division I level. That was my promise. That was my goal.
As Division 1 athletes, we don’t know what it is like to fail athletically until we reach college. We are the stars in high school, win conference championships, and compete well in state meets. Similar to many college athletes, success in cross country and track was part of my identity.
This identity was molded as each year of college finished. I wasn’t hurt very often in high school. I never had an injury that kept me out for more than a week or two. That may be hard to believe if you look at my college career. During the first week of practice, I sprained my ankle by stepping in a big hole during a workout. A month later I sprained the same ankle, while wearing a brace. I had a great summer leading up to the cross country season and was running workouts in the middle of the team, but the injuries set me back too far. I redshirted that season since I didn’t complete any races and figured that I would be able to contribute more to the team in my 5th year than I could limping through my freshman season.
Right after the season, I broke my big toe on a freak play during a game of pickup basketball. Obviously, coach wasn’t happy. Eventually, I saw a doctor and was put in a boot for 3 months. This was the first time I got really frustrated with cross training and injuries. Riding a stationary bike for hours is NOT very exciting. To make matters worse, I found out that being in a boot for 3 months didn’t heal the chip fracture in my toe and the only way to fix the problem was surgery. On March 3rd of my freshman year, I had a quick surgery that removed the chip fracture from my big toe and re-anchored the MCL on the same toe. Track wasn’t an option that season. After a long and slow recovery, I finally got back for half of cross country season in the fall. I had one really good race and then wore down by the end of the season. I was okay with that result because it was the first time that I wore a Lipscomb jersey. I had a great winter and had an okay indoor season, for me. Up to this point, I had completed three cross country races and three track races.
Towards the middle of indoor season, I started having issues with my left hip and running laps around the track only made it worse. I couldn’t finish workouts and had pain during regular parts of my day. After months of putting up with the pain, I decided to see a doctor when I couldn’t finish my first race of outdoor. An MRI on my left hip revealed that my labrum was torn in three different places, along with some other minor issues. I had my second surgery in college in April of 2017.
After months of rehab, I eventually got back to running a little bit, but I was stuck in the return to running plan. After not progressing for a month, I had an MRI on my right hip because I was experiencing the same pain as my left side. Unsurprisingly, my right labrum was torn as well, and I had another surgery only six months after my first hip surgery.
At this point, I expected to have a gradual recovery during my junior year to prepare me to race again my final year of college.
God had other plans.
As I approached 30 minutes of running, I would go through weeks of extreme pain in my left hip again, but then feel fine for a month or two. Over six to seven months, I had two negative MRIs that left me questioning my body more than ever. After months of the same cycle and reoccurring pain, the doctor decided to perform another left hip scope. My dad and I kept our yearly surgery get together alive. I didn’t know what to expect going in since every MRI was inconclusive. The recovery options varied from a couple weeks to multiple months depending on the scenario.
In surgery, he found a loose anchor from my first surgery and a new tear in the labrum. In other words: my collegiate racing days were over. That last surgery was a little over 4 months ago. Because of different setbacks from this surgery, I won’t be healthy enough to race this track season. I have multiple redshirt years, but I’m not going to use them. It is pretty clear that my body can’t handle more competitive running at this time.
I know I’m not the only person who has gone through big surgeries or injuries. I’m not the only person whose collegiate athletic dreams didn’t pan out. Every injured athlete has different experiences when his/her favorite past time is taken away. I have had different emotions and states of mind during each recovery.
In the beginning, I experienced frustration. During my early ankle sprains freshman year, I complained and longed to run when I was only taken out for a couple of weeks. Little did I know that would only be a minor setback in the scheme of four years. I fostered the greatest amount of frustration when I broke my toe and needed surgery. I questioned why I had to experience a six-month recovery for a little toe injury. I solely focused on what I could do to make it back because running was where I found my identity.
I felt happier when I raced fast. I felt appreciated when I raced fast. I thought I would get more attention if I raced fast. Now, I realize that I would much rather be known as a Christian, brother, son, and reliable friend than a stud athlete. I learned that life is more like a cross country course than a track. A track has nice smooth ovals with a finish line that is easy to see. A cross country race has winding turns with different ups and downs that eventually lead to an end. Life is never going to be like a turn on a track. Life is going to have different twists, hairpins, and inclines that will test your patience. As much as you would like to preview the course of life, you will never be prepared for every aspect of the race when it hits you.
As someone who likes to control my life, I didn’t know how to respond to so many setbacks. I was so set on running fast that I kept trying to pursue that dream. I was so obsessed with my plan that I ignored God’s plan. I told Him that He could wait while I pursued what I wanted. Doors closed, but I kept trying to walk through them. I questioned quitting on about 10 different occasions, but I never followed through. It is an unexplainable feeling to have something you are extremely passionate about taken away from you time after time. It is even harder to hear after a surgery that your collegiate running career is over quicker than you expected. You don’t know what to think, say, or do. I told myself sophomore year that I would be done if I ever had a torn labrum. It is hard to follow through when it actually happens.
As each surgery came, I began to realize the blessings instead of focusing on the goals that were taken away. As I look back on my collegiate career, I know that I had opportunities that I wouldn’t be able to follow if I were competing. God brought me to Lipscomb because of running, but He didn’t bring me here to win conference championships. Those rings are reserved for my friends. He brought me here to be much more than a runner. I helped start the Finance Club on campus, I’ve gone on mission trips that I wouldn’t have gone on if I were racing. I’ve built relationships at a refugee community in Nashville and built other friendships because I’m not traveling on the weekends. Looking back, I can see the way that God shaped my college journey. In the moment, I was frustrated. In the moment, I was confused. In the moment, I didn’t know where to turn. Now I see that my plan was pathetic compared to God’s. Closed doors just mean that other doors open. I don’t necessarily believe that one door opens as another closes. Sometimes you are in a room full of closed doors for a while before one opens. On occasion, God teaches me with closed doors. He closes a bunch of doors and forces me to rely on Him before He opens the next. God was writing, and is still writing, a story I didn’t know I would be in.
Because of these setbacks, I don’t like to plan the big things in life. The more I planned, the more those plans went wrong. The more I wanted my life to go one way, the more God sent it in another direction. I planned on going to school on the beach in North Carolina; I chose a school in Nashville. I planned on using a 5th year and immediately pursuing an MBA; I’m jumping into the workforce and I’ll probably get my MBA later in life. I planned on working a job in Nashville after graduation; I’m moving to Atlanta in July. God has better plans than I do, so I’m learning to just follow where He takes me.
I’m not defined by my circumstance. Before, I would see myself as a cripple. Now, injuries are just things that happen to me instead of who I am. I could have been negative, but that seems like a crappy way to live. Being frustrated and negative about each surgery would guarantee failure. I wouldn’t want to be around someone who complains about being hurt all the time. I’m not perfect about being positive. I’ve had days and weeks where I get frustrated and complain, but I try to limit those. I hope that others can say that I didn’t sulk in my setbacks. I joke about my old body all the time, but I try not to bring others down with my pain. I hope that others can look at me and keep a positive perspective when they get hurt because they saw me do it. When you are hurt you provide hope to those watching you. If you keep your head up, others will keep their heads up. If you find hope in your situation, others will find hope in their battles.
I had 4 surgeries in college, but I also had 4 incredible years of growth and knowledge. I’ve gone through days where I was frustrated and close to quitting and days of joy and camaraderie. I’ve seen some of my best friends transfer and I’ve grown close to others over 4 years. Even though there were many hard times, I wouldn’t trade it. The setbacks and surgeries made me the person I am today.
Anyone else facing surgeries, injuries, or setbacks, know that you are not defined by your sport, major, job, or salary. Your identity does not come from how well you perform. You are bigger than the time that flashes when you cross the finish line. You are more valuable than if you hit the big shot at the end of the game. My perspective may be different than others, but I care a lot more about the person you are than how well you perform in your sport. Your sport may bring you to a school, but it may not be the actual reason you are there. A job could take you somewhere, but it may not be the real reason you are there.
Someday your sport will fade. Someday you won’t be able to exercise at a high level because your body aches too bad. Those days seem closer than they should be for me. You will be forced to live without athletic competition. Will you be satisfied with who you are? Build your character now with that person in mind. Your purpose is much more about who you are than what you do.
Maybe you are going through tough family times. Maybe you don’t understand why bad things keep happening. Know that you are not alone. There is a greater story being written. You probably won’t recognize why you had every setback until later.
Find the positives. Keep perspective. Don’t be defined by your circumstance.
I appreciate you.