It all started ten years ago, my junior year of high school. It was a warm, bright Sunday afternoon and volleyball season was right around the corner, but the first varsity practice of the year was in one day. I spent Sunday hanging out with friends and relaxing my muscles because I wanted to bring my best tomorrow. As the day passed, I decided to hit the hay early.
At 9 A.M., I woke up and made myself a filling breakfast to be at my best. Practice started in 30 minutes, but I wanted …show more content…
After quickly setting the ball, I immediately spun around to try and catch the ball, but it was too late. Smack! The ball knocked me in the head, and I instantly plopped onto the hard gym floor. Remember the ball I had just set a hitter? Well, that hitter did successfully spike the ball, but as he was in the air, my hand landed in the precise spot that his foot was about to land. Pain fired up my arm, and I heard the snap of bones as his foot hit my hand. It almost sounded like someone stepping on cereal or cracking a twig. I instantly cried out in agony. I thought to myself, “This was the end of your volleyball career, Allison. You will never play volleyball at the Olympics, or even make it to your high school senior season.”
Volleyball is a way of life. It is my way to calm down after a hard day at school. It is my way to escape the stress of my family. It is my way to take out my aggression on anything and everything. When I play volleyball, I totally forget the problems in my world and focus on nothing but the intensity of the sport. Although it may be stressful at times, it is a good kind of stress. The type of stress that pushes me to never give