The Other Side of Things
As I'm sitting down to write this, it's 1 a.m.—a late night for me. However, it's a rare night because I'm going in for surgery to repair a ruptured patella tendon and knee capsule. It happened last Thursday night in one of my basketball games. It was the one of the grossest and most painful things I've ever seen or experienced let alone been a part of.That night, the doctors in the emergency room told me that I was looking at six months, if I was lucky, to be ‘functional’ again. Whatever that meant. I cried…not because of the physical pain but because of the sheer weight of the moment. I had a few more breakdowns these past few days. You see, everything I do in my life is physical. I own a private gym, I teach physical education, and I compete in bodybuilding. All my hobbies are physical, such as basketball and softball.
Will I?
Thoughts keep running through my head like, will I ever be able to squat again? Play ball again? Build my leg up enough to compete again? I know that if you're on this site, you can relate to my situation. I'm sure many of you have gone through something like this and come out on top.
After emailing Jim Hoskinson about his recovery from double ruptures, I had an awakening. Jim told me that he would help me throughout the entire process. He said it was critical that no matter what anyone told me, I believed 100 percent that I would be back and better than ever. I kept rereading that line of his email. I realized that everything I have ever learned in my life was about to be put to the test—all the years of trying to chase a dream in bodybuilding, lifting when everyone else had gone home, pushing beyond my pain barriers, taking 500 jump shots per day in my basketball career, visualizing greatness while I was trying to fall asleep. All the things my dad ever taught me about not giving up and the journey of finding my passion and letting my spirit grow within it was going to be tested.
In my heart of hearts, I always knew that sport and bodybuilding would prepare me for something greater, a bigger challenge than the sport itself. I always say that we learn more about ourselves in competition and the gym than in any classroom in the world. The iron game taught me to never give up. Ironically, my knee blew up on a play in which I didn’t give up and was chasing an opposing player on a fast break, determined not to give him an easy basket.
