My body ached, and my brain was debilitated. Understanding even the simplest ideas was beginning to feel laborious. Whenever I understood how behind I was in all of my classes, my brain began to spin. Just the thought of all the lost opportunities in sports and school that I would be missing made my stomach clench. After being faced with several obstacles, trying to get through classes and athletics my sophomore year was strenuous after being faced with several obstacles.
The first day of 10th grade was exhilarating; I finally had a feel for high school.
Little did I know, I would be starting one of the utmost arduous years of my life. Early in
the fall of 2014 was when the rough streak commenced. I spent half of the
volleyball
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season not knowing I was sick. However, I had no idea that this ailment was only the first of many. The volleyball season ended alongside my sickness, and I was starting basketball. Within the first week of practice, my second calamity struck. I was unable to play for half of the basketball season before finally being released to play once again. However, I wasn’t back for long by virtue of being emitted to the hospital due to illness just days after my first practice. Being taken out of basketball and school again, I was left wondering what I did to deserve this. This series of events was merely unfortunate and difficult for me to deal with. Starting volleyball in the fall was exciting; I was working diligently and found myself a spot on the varsity team as a setter.
I was excited for practice every day, until about 3 weeks into the season. I began to feel exhausted and dreaded attending practice. I had no idea what had happened, my view on everything was changing alongside my motivation. My enthusiastic attitude towards volleyball had completely diminished. Staying home from school to sleep developed into a regular habit for me. No matter how much sleep I had gotten the night before, I still felt comparable to a zombie walking through the halls at school the next day. Missing games and several practices no longer fazed me. My varsity spot was slipping through my fingers, but I was too tired to even care anymore. A few weeks after I started feeling this way, my parents decided that this might be something deeper than we originally speculated and took me to the doctor. I sat in the room and had my blood drawn and several other tests done. After being tested, I received the news that I had infectious mononucleosis. I was forced to retire from the volleyball team, along with any other physical activity, due an enlarged spleen that could potentially burst if faced with an impact to the area. Nevertheless, volleyball was not the only matter affected by this illness. My grades were falling and my schoolwork was not getting done. Coming in early and staying after school was now regular behavior for me in efforts to catch up to my peers. Late in October I was finally healthy and was up to date with my schoolwork. Now feeling back to normal, I was excited for the fast approaching basketball
season. November 17th had finally arrived in company with the first morning of two-a-day basketball practice. I had been looking forward to the season and was fixed on finding a spot in the starting lineup. Despite my determination, I was out of shape after having been sidelined for the past month. During one of the drills, I became very vertiginous and fell and hit my head on the hardwood court. Immediately, I jumped to my feet and remained practicing. I finished the practice and made my way to first hour with a dizzying and distracting headache. I fought through the rest of the day, and immediately fell asleep shortly after I arrived home that afternoon. That next morning, I awoke to the thunderous sound of my alarm. As soon as I opened my eyes, I saw the room twisting around me and was soon vomiting over the side of my bed. I hollered to my mom who, because of my nausea, assumed I’d caught a stomach bug. The twisting and turning of the room around me lingered for the next four days before we made the decision return to the clinic. After having my checkup, the doctor inquired if I had any recent blows to the head. Searching through my clouded memory, I recalled my fall in basketball practice five days before. Then I realized I would be temporarily sidelined in basketball as well. I had both a serious concussion and vertigo. The thought made my eyes burn with frustration since I would be missing yet another opportunity. After a few days, I was able to attend school once again physically, but mentally I was out the window. I wasn’t able to keep my thoughts straight; one minute I was in history class, but the next I was in dreamland. My grades were plummeting, and I couldn’t retain anything that I learned during the day. Sitting at practice, watching my team work without me was discouraging and put a damper on my spirit. Every day I would sit and attempt to do my homework while I listened to the squeaks of my teammates shoes on the gym floor. There was nothing I wanted more than to accompany them in their drills and games. December arrived and I was cleared to begin practicing again. I was finally going to be able to join my team on the court like I had been longing to do for over a month. However, I was still struggling to find a comfortable place after having missed so much already. After a week of practicing with my team, I started to feel ill yet again. I couldn’t help but wonder what I did to deserve such unfortunate luck. Instead of waiting, my family and I made the decision to go get a checkup as soon as possible. I walked into the clinic and felt the familiarity of the room; I had just been there last week. I was called back and went through the routine that I had gone through a considerable amount of times before; getting weighed, taking my temperature, and then heading back to sit in the room until I hear the two knocks on the door. The doctor walked in and smiled “You again?” I was embarrassed and felt like an impotent kid. More tests were executed, similar to ones I had been through time and time before. As my tests were being run, I sat impatiently in the room to hear the news. There were two knocks on the door and the doctor shuffled in. With a sympathetic smile, he sat down and asked if I would prefer a hospital gown or my own clothes. For having pneumonia in my right lung, I was being admitted to the hospital. A nurse stepped in and asked me to follow her to my room that I would be locked up in for the next few days. I laid in bed all day, sleeping on and off and being interrupted by nurses every hour. At night, the nurses burst in with sharp needles and machines that disrupted my sleep. At 3 o’clock in the morning I’d get my vitals taken, and at 5 o’clock they took my blood; every hour in-between was my temperature. Lying in bed all day turned out to be quite exhausting; especially when I was hearing about the basketball games I was missing, alongside all the schoolwork I had to make up. At this point, I felt as though I had missed more school than I had attended. As soon as they let me out, I was ecstatic to return to my friends at school. Returning back to normality was not nearly as exciting and simple as I had anticipated. Weeks had passed since I last spent time with my friends, not to mention the absences from my classes. Every class I walked into felt as though the teachers were speaking to me in a different language, and became even worse when I took home my homework. Staying extra hours in the school to get work done and receiving as much help from teachers as I could had become a daily habit. Time to relax and reconnect with my friends felt non-existent. I had fallen off the face of the earth, but it didn’t look like I would be coming back any time soon. Spring arrived and I finally felt back to normal and was caught up in all of my classes. Track season was starting and I couldn’t be more excited to finally be back in a sport and actually participate. The first day of practice arrived and I had never been more thrilled. During practices, I was working harder than I ever had before. I knew that with my luck, I could not have the whole season. Every day went by with question as to whether it was going to be my last for the year. After practice each day, difficult or facile, I was excited and couldn’t wait to come back the next day. Making it through the season without injury was an accomplishment in itself for me. My sophomore year taught me that you can’t take advantage of the opportunities you have. Setbacks can present themselves before you have time to prepare yourself. Every chance you get, you should work your hardest, and take into consideration that you never know what could happen or when you will be missing out on once-in-a-lifetime events.
high school feeling utterly nervous; now as a senior, I have been accepted into college! Oh my.
Beginning as a freshman I started every game never, but to sit on the bench unless there was a major problem. This repetitious cycle mirrored itself over and over again until there was a problem, physically, with my body. I had felt a pain in my back that ran down my leg for some time, but no one other than me knew of this pain. I am a very strong willed and determined person, not letting pain stand in my way. The pain started to vaguely effect my everyday activities, such as walking across Wal-mart which put me in agonizing pain. The only way I played basketball with this pain was by focusing on the goal I was out to achieve.
One incident that happened to me that change how I thought about sports was when I first started playing soccer. It all started when my mom said that I should join a sport to get me more active. It took me awhile to choose soccer at first because there were so many sports to choose from. I told my mom I wanted to play soccer. She signed me up to play for a non competitive league (GYSA) so I can learn the basics of the sport. She also told me to play I would have to maintain good grades. After hearing that i always tried my best in soccer and school.
My sophomore year of high school I played on the Junior Varsity volleyball team. We began preparing for the season by doing two-a-days the first week of August. We worked out hard the first two weeks then had our first scrimmage that next Friday. We won the scrimmage, but it was a pretty messy game. It was like we were all doing our best individually, but we were not working together as a team. The court was silent during each play and each time somebody messed up the rest of the team got mad at them.
Starting college was not what I expected it to be. I have always been excited to go to college since I was little because I’ve always wanted to get a degree that could help people, animals, and the environment. I did not expect my Freshman year of college to turn out the way it did. I knew there would be challenges, but I did not expect that there would be so many large emotional valleys for me to overcome. I hoped the greatest challenges I would face were midterms and finals. I did not expect the great amount of loss I would experience which began the summer before my Freshman year. I had a bright start, I was looking forward to being a cheerleader at UMHB. I made lots of friends and I was able to go see my boyfriend whenever I wanted - what could go wrong?
The feeling of an eternity overwhelmed me, as the blaring sounds of the machine took over my feeble body. The feeling of not knowing what was wrong with me was just the beginning of the struggle until two months later, the solution presented itself. Ending freshman year on a high note filled me with excitement for sophomore year. I was eager to continue as well as I did, but I would not know what was ahead of me. As the year rolls around, I did well to continue succeeding in school, but in a span of a few months the changes were drastic.
Finding your group of people can be such a peaceful relief. I believe in friends turning into family. Soccer has brought so many things into my life that I would have never been exposed to elsewhere, but the most significant thing the sport has gifted me with is lifelong friendships. Even though the girls I played with were 1 year older than I was, they still accepted me. The girls I met when I was 7 years old, basically watched me grow up and have been there for me since.
I was in second grade the first time I watched beach volleyball on television. What caught my eye was its trademark: tan lines, athletes, and a connotation that friendships were made on and off the court. More than anything I wanted a way in, a way to make friends because I simply could not identify myself as one who enjoyed playing with barbie dolls or being infatuated with horses. The first day of recreational practice, I was shocked in dismay.
It was during my final quarter at Bothell that life events were the most challenging. I was juggling 20 hours a week of work, 16 h...
Usually my family and I would be in Mexico with my grandparents but because of me we stayed this summer. I felt awful and impotent and the only thing I could do was thank them every day and try my best. I went to Xavier Center, picked up my slip, and headed over to Mr. Baham’s classroom in L104. The course consisted of four hours in class of pure geometry, two hours of homework, and however many hours you needed in order to study for next days quiz. I was doing eight hours of geometry every day, football, and making time for family, but I had to stop doing one of them, if I didn't I would never gain anything from doing everything. I continued my geometry-football routine for one week before I decided that the best choice for my future would be to quit football. The second Monday of summer school I went to my football coach’s office and let him know that I would not be part of the 2015 sophomore football team. With all my effort concentrated into geometry I felt relieved and ready to do the best I could do for the next four weeks. Everyday it was the same routine; go to Loyola, do my homework, study two hours, and have two hours for my family. Though I grew tired of my routine, I continued doing the best I could until the
When the pendulum clock arm swung discontentedly as it hit ten o'clock, I buried my head down on the almond- colored table and took a sip of the ice-cold water to ease my restless mind. Under the luminous sunlight, I squinted my dry eyes and let out a long pulsed yawn, leaving piles of worksheets lying cynically on the messy floor. My high school study had never brought me much pressure and sorrow until grade eleven shattered my brain into strays and overtaken my optimism. Tests and assignments haunted me every day and nights as they shoved themselves on to my working table. After several months, the overwhelming stress caused me to lose my all soberness and the growing hopelessness teased with my mind.
We are thankful My narrative story is about volleyball. The reason I want to wrote about this topic is, because I am very good at it,and in volleyball you express your feelings and your skills. I have been practicing volleyball since I was 11years old. When I was 10 a teacher canup to me and told me I would be good at volleyball since I was tall and was strong.
It was the start of summer 2002, and the Mid America Youth Basketball (MAYB) national tournament was taking place in Andover, Kansas. Along with the rest of the team, I was excited to play some basketball for the first time since the middle school basketball season was over. Our team, Carlon Oil, had been together and played every summer for the last four years. We were a really good team, with an overall record of 65-4 over those four years and were hoping to continue our legacy. Lonnie Lollar, our coach for the summer, was also the coach of our high school basketball team. I had a history of groin injuries, and every summer it seemed that I would have to sit out at least a game on the bench icing my groin. But this summer was different, and I along with everyone in the gym wouldn't have expected my summer to end with a injury such as a broken leg.
The one thing that an athlete doesn’t want to hear is that they cannot play their favorite sport because of an injury they recently got. This actually happened to me when I injured my knee while lifting high amount of weight. After my lifting class I was walking perfectly and prepared to get through the rest of the day. Only an hour later I couldn’t walk with my right leg and had to limp through the rest of the day. Two hours after I was limping and trying not to cry from the sharp, acute sting in my right knee.
The summer after fifth grade was a big summer for me. I felt all powerful since I would be entering the Middle School in three months. I had no idea that not everyone felt that I knew everything in the world.