November 3rd, 2008 - perhaps this was the day your daughter learned to ride her bicycle without training wheels or the day your best friend began a new life through marriage. This particular day in history was the ninety-year anniversary of the fall of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and the day before one of the most monumental presidential elections in American history. However, in my small, naive existence at John P. Steven's High School, it was the day my entire life changed and the world as I knew it had collapsed.
The air was thick and still as if a tornado was expected. Charcoal-colored clouds loomed and enveloped the sky, emanating a sense of foreboding onto the ground: the kind of weather that instigates feelings of lethargy and despondency. Despite such emotions, I dragged myself to the first day of winter track practice where I would ease back into hurdling. Hurdling was easy and I had mastered the art of it, winning several medals as a freshman in county track meets as well as smaller invitationals; but this day was different. Standing thirty-three inches tall was an "intimidating" hurdle inviting me to leap over it like a fierce gazelle pouncing upon its prey. Before I could finally trudge home, I had one last practice run, and of course I crashed into the final hurdle that I needed to overcome. Charging into the plastic bar with an already cracked left rail and faded letters claiming "Stevens," my firm, robust lead leg transformed into a lanky, vulnerable limb similar to that of a baby deer. The hurdle followed with the momentum of my body, and I had no time to process what had occurred. My legs involuntarily crossed, forcefully dislocating my right knee, as they finally stomped back onto the track shredding several ligaments as well as fracturing my femur. Darkness shocked my world before I opened my eyes and realized a sensation of extreme pain overwhelming my body much like the menacing clouds overcame the track around me. My hurdling days were over.
Three surgeries, two titanium screws, and one ligament removal later, I reside in this world with a new insight on life. My injury was not only the biggest challenge I have ever confronted, my surgeon has only encountered a single more extensive injury in his thirty-eight years of practice, the first more severe injury being that of a professional football player. While my friends were competing in athletic events, hanging out, and enjoying other mundane activities of high school life, I was relearning how to utilize the muscles in my leg to propel it upward, an activity striving toward the longtime goal of walking once again. I can no longer participate in physical education, and I will never again be the first pick for a friendly game of volleyball considering one of my knees is nearly bionic, bolted together with synthetic screws.
Throughout this emotional and physical struggle, my persistent effort to live a normal life with normal legs and a normal stride has granted me the success of achieving these goals to some degree. As hard as I have worked to regain my strength, enduring pain and fighting through perceivably simple exercises in hopes that I can revert back to my previous, healthy life, my knee still collapses and buckles arbitrarily. Eager to continue my recovery, I challenge myself to run a mile or so occasionally; pain shoots through my leg as if it were being hacked at by a hammer. With each stride onto the pavement, tightness spreads throughout my limb and swelling attacks my joint, making each movement nearly impossible. I concentrate on the seven horrifying words that resonate in my head as I continue to push through such immense pain; several months after my third surgery, my doctor had mentioned, "It's possible you may never walk again". With these words, I squinted my eyes, shook my head and opened my stride, pumping my arms harder. Images rushed through my mind of all the triumphs and downfalls I had experienced in this life-changing milestone and I immediately assumed that I have gained nothing but perseverance. However, as the images of salted tears pouring down my face and the discouraged eyes of my doctors and therapists looking down upon my battered leg escape my mind, I realize joyous pictures of my "first steps" and my countless accomplishments.
My knee catastrophe has taught me that no matter how many failures to which I have succumbed, I have endured greater successes and have surely risen above these hindrances by far exceeding my doctor's expectations regarding mobility. From this injury, I have matured greatly in that I was able to end my journey in the world of athletics and continue with my adventure of thought and academics. As I realize new interests that I never previously discovered, such as poetry and community service, my perspectives and insights from competitive sports has provided me with a sturdy framework for flourishing in all aspects of my life. While I progress on this quest, I carry an outlook on life that I must challenge myself to be the best in every instance and opportunity because only this could satiate my hunger to succeed. I realize that obstacles, which I am willing to overcome, precede every triumph; and as more hurdles appear along my race of life, I will always remember to jump higher in order to avoid stumbling once again.
In retrospect, I can perceive this specific November 3rd as the day that any and every athlete dreads, the day that my world disintegrated, the day that has robbed me of my passions. However, more optimistically, this day led to help me discover myself. I would like to think of it as an experience that has added to my identity and has made me strong and resilient enough to handle whatever I may encounter in my life. Quite evidently, my experience can be interpreted in both positive and negative ways and although I cannot prevent such unfortunate events from happening in my life, I can surely control my perspective on them. No matter how much my injury has set me back or built me up, in my seventeen-year-old mind I am willing to accept that this day has defined my past, and I can assure you that I will define my future.
so i tried to describe more, but i feel like the highlighted para is still very cliche :( any more suggestions? and also any suggestions for a title? thank you
The air was thick and still as if a tornado was expected. Charcoal-colored clouds loomed and enveloped the sky, emanating a sense of foreboding onto the ground: the kind of weather that instigates feelings of lethargy and despondency. Despite such emotions, I dragged myself to the first day of winter track practice where I would ease back into hurdling. Hurdling was easy and I had mastered the art of it, winning several medals as a freshman in county track meets as well as smaller invitationals; but this day was different. Standing thirty-three inches tall was an "intimidating" hurdle inviting me to leap over it like a fierce gazelle pouncing upon its prey. Before I could finally trudge home, I had one last practice run, and of course I crashed into the final hurdle that I needed to overcome. Charging into the plastic bar with an already cracked left rail and faded letters claiming "Stevens," my firm, robust lead leg transformed into a lanky, vulnerable limb similar to that of a baby deer. The hurdle followed with the momentum of my body, and I had no time to process what had occurred. My legs involuntarily crossed, forcefully dislocating my right knee, as they finally stomped back onto the track shredding several ligaments as well as fracturing my femur. Darkness shocked my world before I opened my eyes and realized a sensation of extreme pain overwhelming my body much like the menacing clouds overcame the track around me. My hurdling days were over.
Three surgeries, two titanium screws, and one ligament removal later, I reside in this world with a new insight on life. My injury was not only the biggest challenge I have ever confronted, my surgeon has only encountered a single more extensive injury in his thirty-eight years of practice, the first more severe injury being that of a professional football player. While my friends were competing in athletic events, hanging out, and enjoying other mundane activities of high school life, I was relearning how to utilize the muscles in my leg to propel it upward, an activity striving toward the longtime goal of walking once again. I can no longer participate in physical education, and I will never again be the first pick for a friendly game of volleyball considering one of my knees is nearly bionic, bolted together with synthetic screws.
Throughout this emotional and physical struggle, my persistent effort to live a normal life with normal legs and a normal stride has granted me the success of achieving these goals to some degree. As hard as I have worked to regain my strength, enduring pain and fighting through perceivably simple exercises in hopes that I can revert back to my previous, healthy life, my knee still collapses and buckles arbitrarily. Eager to continue my recovery, I challenge myself to run a mile or so occasionally; pain shoots through my leg as if it were being hacked at by a hammer. With each stride onto the pavement, tightness spreads throughout my limb and swelling attacks my joint, making each movement nearly impossible. I concentrate on the seven horrifying words that resonate in my head as I continue to push through such immense pain; several months after my third surgery, my doctor had mentioned, "It's possible you may never walk again". With these words, I squinted my eyes, shook my head and opened my stride, pumping my arms harder. Images rushed through my mind of all the triumphs and downfalls I had experienced in this life-changing milestone and I immediately assumed that I have gained nothing but perseverance. However, as the images of salted tears pouring down my face and the discouraged eyes of my doctors and therapists looking down upon my battered leg escape my mind, I realize joyous pictures of my "first steps" and my countless accomplishments.
My knee catastrophe has taught me that no matter how many failures to which I have succumbed, I have endured greater successes and have surely risen above these hindrances by far exceeding my doctor's expectations regarding mobility. From this injury, I have matured greatly in that I was able to end my journey in the world of athletics and continue with my adventure of thought and academics. As I realize new interests that I never previously discovered, such as poetry and community service, my perspectives and insights from competitive sports has provided me with a sturdy framework for flourishing in all aspects of my life. While I progress on this quest, I carry an outlook on life that I must challenge myself to be the best in every instance and opportunity because only this could satiate my hunger to succeed. I realize that obstacles, which I am willing to overcome, precede every triumph; and as more hurdles appear along my race of life, I will always remember to jump higher in order to avoid stumbling once again.
In retrospect, I can perceive this specific November 3rd as the day that any and every athlete dreads, the day that my world disintegrated, the day that has robbed me of my passions. However, more optimistically, this day led to help me discover myself. I would like to think of it as an experience that has added to my identity and has made me strong and resilient enough to handle whatever I may encounter in my life. Quite evidently, my experience can be interpreted in both positive and negative ways and although I cannot prevent such unfortunate events from happening in my life, I can surely control my perspective on them. No matter how much my injury has set me back or built me up, in my seventeen-year-old mind I am willing to accept that this day has defined my past, and I can assure you that I will define my future.
so i tried to describe more, but i feel like the highlighted para is still very cliche :( any more suggestions? and also any suggestions for a title? thank you
