Pain? Struggle? THANKS! That's JUST what I wanted!!

I’m lying still and stiff, in ‘the white tube’ — getting an MRI scan. Aw, this sucks, because 1) I’m injured and 2) I’m sorta claustrophobic. Small dark spaces elicit a measure of panic in me. But I must grit it out. The injury? My right knee is hurting again. In practice, I squatted down, it locked up, and a searing pain hit me—! So it occurs to me I can think about my knee, the pain, and feeling scared in this tight space, or I can go somewhere else…somewhere in my imagination.

It’s my junior year, fall quarter, and I compete on the gymnastics team for the University of Utah. If you didn’t catch that, let me say it again—I compete. I’m not the type to give in to injury. And yet, I’ve been racked with many. Besides bad ankles, icing and taping every day, I had a knee surgery freshman year with a full-leg cast, then rehabbed, and surprisingly broke my back, no joke, with two months in a body-cast, sophomore year. That was miserable—my body went soft, very soft... I did a ton of rehab after that one!

In this athletic life, pain and struggle have not escaped me, and they often feel like   daily companions. 

I decide to alleviate the stress by focusing on the positive option; I go into my imagination. I think of the floor music I chose for the upcoming season. I love it: “Let the music play,” by Shannon. A catchy dance song on the radio, very popular. I know the music so well, every 8-count phrase, every beat, every accent. I start to imagine how I will dance to it. In fact…I begin to choreograph my own floor routine.

The MRI technician interrupts. On speaker, a lifeless voice says, “Lie still, we’re starting the next image.” I take in some air and slowly breathe out. My body, confined in the tube, reminds me to pray; I try to be calm. I close my eyes and the loud knocking sounds begin. I manage to zero in on my music. I hear it in my mind, da…da…dada-da-da… I see moves: I pop my hip left, then right, my head whips left, then right, I snap my hand up and up…then I tumble, round-off, flip flop, double back, land… I continue this process, I hear the notes, create playful struts and steps—I dream a spectacular show piece. 

Within thirty minutes I have danced in my mind and most of my floor routine is complete; a mix of jazz, hip-hop, and Broadway spunk. I like it. Finally, the MRI is over.

They slide me out of the dark machine. I look at the pale floor, white walls, everything germ-free and bare. I go back to campus. I’ll hear from the doctor in the next day, they say. This is limbo…waiting…

It’s miserable being injured again, not to mention shut inside an MRI tomb. I don’t know what will happen, how bad my knee is, if I’ll get back to 100% or not. Hmm, I feel tense. I don’t want to be out of the gym. But the truth is this predicament pushes me; I get out of bed every morning, lie on the carpet in my pjs, and do two hundred crunches. I have to keep my abs strong, keep my weight down.

And because of the seriousness, I don’t want to get depressed, so I go deep into my own mind and imagine great things — me performing my best. I do this to keep my hopes up, to motivate myself, to believe I can overcome anything. I pretend I’m training and hitting my routines. I’m with my teammates, we are confident and fearless. This is what I want. And I know it’s the fear that provokes me to go into that other world; a healthy me in front of uniformed judges and our Red Utah Fans. I create my own triumph. That’s the world I like. And with those positive images…I can endure and make it through another hard day.

After the MRI, the doctor schedules me for a second knee surgery (bahhh!), but it’s arthroscopic so recovery should be quicker. I do the surgery, go through six weeks of agonizing rehab — many hours in the training room, sweating and climbing hills on the stationary bike, pushing and pulling weights, soaking my leg in ice water so freezing it hurts, and working with our trainer. Lots of pain and struggle to gain back lost flexibility and strength. I am exhausted. Then I watch my teammates train full-on to be ready for meet season: double twists, double pikes, Tsukaharas, release moves… Watching is hard. I’m excited for them, but feel inept and downgraded. My body is broken. I am alone. I want to work with them, yet I am bandaged up on the sidelines… Meanwhile, I go through the holidays in a weight room, the gym, the training room, killing myself to be ready. Gradually, I get back to basic moves on the equipment. I ice my knee and do mental training twice a day. In my mind, I practice my skills and routines as if I were competing — I feel my muscles jumping and flipping, I see myself lean and fit in a leotard, energetic in the arena, nailing my routines. But the days, they are endless, and the struggle stays with me. I have to push, push, push myself to get back into competition shape and feel confident once again.

Eight weeks later, it’s January. I’ve gone through drudgery and grey clouds, and finally, a light peeks through. The season begins—and I’m there. My knee is much better, I’m in good shape…and I dance.

In front of the judges, my music starts bouncing, and I smile. I tumble and dance for the joy, for the crowd, and for my Utah teammates. I am full of life! And it is amazing to compete! People praise my floor routine (the dance I created) and the judges give me solid scores. I keep icing my knee after every practice, and I’m getting through the meets as our team faces ASU, UCLA, Oregon State and others. We are together, a whole team, an inspired team, and I continue to focus and improve.

Three and a half months later, by the end of the season, our team does the unbelievable — as underdogs, we go to Nationals and win our 5th consecutive NCAA National title. And the extra special news, I shine on floor. I am floating on air having the time of my life, and I win the NCAA National Floor title. I can't believe it - I am an NCAA National Champion! 

There’s no way I could’ve imagined that in the MRI. I didn’t think of winning when I was doing the rehab and feeling the pain and struggle. I simply wanted to get back in the gym and do my best. And the truth is, the injury helped me; it forced me to focus harder. I had to go inside myself and r-e-a-c-h for my inner strength. I ignored all distractions because getting healthy and competing were the most important things to me. I ate in a disciplined manner to heal quickly and to be lean and strong. I made sure I slept enough so I had energy the next day to get back on track in the gym. I did daily mental practice so I knew with every cell in my body that I could perform my best. Everything I did, I did it with focus, because I wanted to compete badly.

So maybe you can understand what I’m sharing — it IS the challenge. It is the challenge that sparks us. It is the struggle that makes us want to rise! It is the pain in the journey that makes us stronger on the inside and so grateful to be able to play and compete. Sure, it’s common to get hurt in sports. I know. But, what is not common is realizing that injuries can be a gift. A wonderful gift to learn about the self and grow in a way that not many experience. I am so grateful for the hurt and agony, strange as it sounds. And as a coach, I am wiser and able to relate to my athletes. Which allows them to trust me and face their hardest days, too…

I never wished for an injury or asked for a big challenge, but life gives it sometimes, so what are you gonna do??? Well, I say out loud: “Thanks, painful knee injury! Thank you, scary MRI! Thank you, surgery! And of course, Thank you, rehab! Whoopee! THAT'S JUST WHAT I WANTED!” 

~ Lisa speaks to teams, parents, and coaches, and works with clients one-on-one. See LisaMitzel.com or HeyMitz.com for more articles and info.