We all have been defeated, whether it was our own doing or something unavoidable. It hurts to be defeated. There is nothing more fragile than the human heart. But there are people who wallow in their misery, and those who realize they can always keep going.
When I was in high school, I got cut from the volleyball team and cried for the rest of the day, then cried myself to sleep that night.
My body was sore. My chest was heavy. There were times I couldn’t catch my breath and I thought, “This is it. I’m a failure. Everyone saw me get cut. I will never get over this.”
I thought volleyball was my life, even though I had only played it for one season. But, at that point, the defeat was all-consuming.
The next day, I was scrolling through my phone and saw a picture of my friend running. She was a part of the cross-country team at my high school.
I knew that cross-country was holding conditioning training, because it was a few weeks before school started, and the team ran from 7-10 a.m. I checked the time, and it was only about 7:15, so I decided to give it a shot.
I moved as fast as I could, unsure if they would even let me — someone who never ran more than a lap around the track in her life — run with a cross-country team. My legs stuck to the floor like Thor’s hammer, so unworthy of moving.
I stumbled down the stairs in sweats and sneakers.
My parents looked surprised to see me up, especially before 8 a.m.
Without a look in their direction, I said I was going to cross-country practice.
I stepped outside, took a deep breath of the fresh air and headed for my car, and knew there was a shift in the universe. I don’t know if it was completely internal or because that fresh air sent some oxygen to my brain.
I got to the park where the practice was held and found the coaches.
Everyone was so happy to see me; my heart almost melted. I started talking to some of the coaches, and they made fun of my sneakers and asked what happened with volleyball. So, with a knot the size of my fist in my throat, I managed to let them know I was cut from the team.
“Good! Now you can run with us this season,” the coaches said, with no remorse for my obvious self-pity.
They were impressed I arrived the day after being cut, telling me that kind of heart was all I needed for “the hardest sport in the world.”
They sent me on a run with a few teammates, and before I knew it, I was running through what seemed like the jungle. I must have run for about three minutes before I lost all my breath and tried stopping. All the girls started yelling at me, “You can do it! You got this! Keep going.”
With my heart full of disappointment and determination, my mind took me further than I ever thought my body could. I ran up hills that I couldn’t see the tops of. I ran through trails that had tree roots the size of arms. There were points I found myself running next to the road with cars honking at us and cheering us on.
Around the last mile when I really felt my body seizing up, I started to cry. I hated running. What was I doing here? I’m a volleyball player, and I got cut from the team.
“You have less than a half a mile to go; you can do this!” the leader of the pack yelled.
I pushed as hard as I could that last half mile. I was so embarrassed. Tears rolling down my face, along with ugly sobs that were broken up by gasps from trying to catch a single breath. Then they stopped running, turned at me, and every one of those girls hugged me so tight I couldn’t breathe.
I wanted to drop to the ground, but they all stood me up with their support, and it was in that moment, my tears turned from disappointment to accomplishment. I never expected to run. I never thought I would run three miles. I never thought I would experience a team again.
Leading up to the start of school and the season, the coaches pulled me aside. “You got cut from volleyball; it defeated you. You came to practice, and you decided to redirect your focus on something that could uplift you.”
Because of my hard work, they asked me to be team captain.
This was it, the light at the end of the dark tunnel. My volleyball career had ended, but a new chapter in my life opened. It wouldn’t have been there if I stayed in bed pitying myself.
Never let defeat get the best of you. You never know what windows will close to open new doors in your life.
