Getting Back in the Saddle

It’s been five years since I last stepped on a court and played volleyball. When Covid cut my season in Switzerland short just one round into playoffs, I never thought that would be the last time I would put on a jersey and play at the highest level of competition. I also had no idea at the time that my latest bout of shoulder pain was actually a torn labrum, or that my attempt to return to Europe in October of 2020 would end with me being medically released from my contract in France.

If you would have told me that my final practice in Saint Chamond would be the last time I would touch a volleyball for the next four years, I would have laughed in your face. After all, I haven’t gone more than two weeks without playing volleyball in some way, shape or form since I was fourteen years old. But my body needed a chance to rest, and my mind needed the break just as desperately. As much as I loved pursuing this career in professional volleyball, the experience was tainted by toxic club politics, homesickness and a constant grind that was slowly stripping away my love for the sport.

When I decided to officially retire in the summer of 2021, it felt like an enormous weight was lifted off my shoulders. There was no pressure to get in the gym and make sure I worked on some aspect of my game or PRed on my lifts. I was free to let myself forget about volleyball, and for a while, I relished this freedom. I owed so much to this sport, and yet I couldn’t stand to be around it.

Now, I find myself missing the sport that has been so integral to my life once again. But I am also scared. On the one hand, I never got the corrective surgery on my shoulder. I know this wasn’t my wisest move, but I held out hope that given enough time away from the constant motion of serving and hitting a volleyball, my injury might have a chance to heal itself without surgery.

I’m also a perfectionist. I knew that with time, age and that pesky shoulder, my game would never be the same. I was scared to see what had changed after five years, worried that it would go beyond being “a little rusty”. I was especially scared to play in front of people and have them witness how far I had fallen from the professional athlete living in Europe. My therapist, my best friend, my family all reiterated the same thing: I was much harder on myself than anyone else would be.

After months of stalling, I decided to bite the bullet. It has always been a pet peeve of mine when people complain about their situation and make no moves to change things that are within their power. Well, this was most definitely a situation I could change, I just needed to take the first step. A friend I used to play high school volleyball with occasionally subbed for a co-ed rec league team, and she advised I message the captain to let him know I would be interested in subbing in if the need ever arose.

So, I messaged him and received an immediate response - Could I help them out that weekend? For a moment, I was paralyzed. I hadn’t even gotten around to patting myself on the back for getting back out there and I was already being asked to play? I debated chickening out, try to buy myself more time before I had to walk on that court. But I knew that if I said no, I might just continue making excuses. There was also the chance that he might not reach out again and this experiment would be over before it had even started.

I pulled up my big girl panties and decided I needed to see this through. I missed volleyball, and here was my chance to play again in a low stakes environment. I agreed to play that weekend and crossed my fingers that I wouldn’t make a total fool of myself. Needless to say, I was a bundle of nervous energy leading up to the game. I knew a few people on the team from previous gatherings with mutual friends but otherwise I would be playing with strangers. After nearly missing the game because I had parked in the wrong lot and couldn’t find the gym, I finally found the court, met my new teammates and started to play.

Words cannot express how it felt to play again. Even breathless and completely out of shape for this kind of workout, my shoulder was holding up and muscle memory was taking over. I wasn’t scoring the kind of points I was used to, but I wasn’t losing too many either. Even though I ended up pulling my calf muscle in the last game (did I mention how getting old sucks?), I don’t think I stopped smiling the entire time. I knew I had missed this sport and the comradery, but I had no idea how much I had tamped down in an attempt to protect my heart and my ego.

I have never been so happy to be proven wrong for my own fears and insecurities. Who knew a rec league volleyball game could remind me why I had fallen in love with this sport in the first place? Sometimes we just need to take a breather to fully appreciate something, and sometimes, we need to face our fears of rejection and embarrassment to pursue what truly makes us happy. Today it was volleyball, tomorrow, who knows what I might achieve?