Broken Ankle Blues

                What really hits me hard, even after all this time, is days like today. I woke up early, but skipped class because my broken ankle is killing me. About a month ago, I did on a tumbling pass during cheer practice. I landed that tumbling pass in a crack, and both dislocated and broke my ankle. Not to be a sad sack, but I also broke my hand back in November, stunting in cheer practice. It really sucks to work so hard for something and it stay just out of your reach. It’s a lot like how I feel on my scooter every day, because I can’t walk for a few months. Sometimes I try to roll through somewhere or over something, and my wheel gets caught wrong, and I have to stop and readjust and continue. That’s how my life feels right this second. I tried to be the best I could, and my hand caught me up. I worked my ass off and did hardcore workouts for two months on top of practice, came back stronger, and I seem to have gotten caught up again. And here I am, currently readjusting my life and getting back on the scooter.

                So today, I made it to practice. I worked the radio for roughly two and a half hours, watching girls in spandex and black shirts with the blue emblem for our university proudly on the front, doing things that are absolutely insane. It isn’t the girls that I like to watch, though. The boys impress me more every time I watch, with their sassy motions and mouthing the words to the music, all while completing skills I could never dream of being able to do. (And I’m a tumbler.) The looks on their faces are priceless; they have the biggest expressions you’ve ever seen. This feigned excitement while they are pushing themselves physically to the max is what makes it so entertaining to watch. That’s what you look for when you’re judging, their energy. A good team, a nationals winning team, puts a smile on their face and makes you want to watch them make what they do look easy. It’s amazing, but for me, it’s hard to watch.

                I’ve always been of the mindset that, if I want something done right, I need to do it myself. Not to suggest that I’m not a team player. I am, and I couldn’t do anything without my team. It just makes it hard to watch my team do the routine that I had been a part of, and was thinking about how to improve every day, without me. They are strong and dedicated, and we will win as a family…but it’s hard to claim that for myself. I won’t be able to be a part of the feelings I know are part of the experience, because I’ll be speaking in second person. I don’t want to have to say “You can do it,” because I feel like I can do it… but then again, I can’t walk.