When I was a senior in high school, I felt like I was on top of the world. I was doing amazing in school, had a solid friend group, was confident in myself, and, to top it all off, I was the team captain of my cross country and track teams. I was finally living the ideal high school life I’d wanted since kindergarten, and I couldn’t have wished for anything better.
The best part about senior year was when I was team captain. The years of dedication I’d put into my sport finally paid off. While I wasn’t the fastest on the team, I felt my commitment to the team was finally appreciated.
I adored my team. I always said that the cross country team was the most supportive group of girls. I felt like since running was very much an individual sport, it was easier to support each other since the performance of an individual was solely based on their ability.
Everything was perfect, that is, until I got injured during my spring track season.
We hadn’t even reached the middle of the season when I started to notice a seizing pain in my heel. I continued to run, hoping it was a fleeting injury. However, doing so just made it worse. Every time I would put pressure on my heel, a pain would strike my heel. It wasn’t solely when I ran, though. I could be laying down, propping my feet up on a surface, walking, or sometimes even standing.
The weird thing was that the pain wasn’t affecting my performance at all, which is why I was hesitant to ask for help. I was also hesitant because asking for help would mean going to the athletic trainer’s, and that wouldn’t have been my first time doing so.
During my sophomore year of high school, I had tendinitis during my winter track season and the trainers kept me out of my sport for weeks. I wasn’t getting better, so eventually I simply lied and said I felt better in order to get back to practice. I knew this time around that asking for help would mean no more track…which would suck, especially during my senior season.
Eventually, when the heel pain was more prominent, I decided that there was no other option; I asked my coach if I could see the athletic trainer. After a series of tests and inspections, the trainers told me it was likely that I had Plantar fasciitis in my heel, but since it wasn’t affecting my performance, they wouldn’t take me out of track.
So, they wrapped up my heel to mitigate the pain and I continued to run. I was running personal bests in every race, getting closer to my goal of breaking six minutes in the mile. However, the aftermath of every race was the same: seizing pains. I would limp over to my bag and ask one of my teammates to get me ice. I would be too hurt to run the cooldown.
Closer to the end of the season, I stopped going to the trainers and made the decision with my coach that I would start running less so that I would feel good enough to run at Sectionals. I continued to attend practices and meets to support my teammates, but it hurt me constantly to watch them carry on with the season, knowing that I couldn’t join them.
Sectionals came and went. I ran the mile and was two seconds off of my personal best. I ran a 6:07, failing to break 6. I was devastated after my race and cried. I cried because the season was over and because I didn’t hit the goal I’d had throughout high school.
I felt snubbed of my senior track season.
After Sectionals, I knew that the best thing for me was to stop running, but I didn’t want to stop working out. I began to use the Peloton in my basement, go on walks, and even tried yoga. After a period of alternative exercises, my heel started to feel better and I slowly began to build up to running. I would run a couple of miles one day, and then bike the next. However, I realized that I wasn’t in as good of running shape as I’d been before.
I could have seen that as a setback. I could have pondered and cried and wished I’d never gotten injured…but I didn’t. Thankfully, it was summertime and college was upon me. I had no real commitment to running anymore, so it didn’t feel like the end of the world as much.
When I got to college, I started to go to the University Recreation Center, or UREC. At first, I stuck to what I knew: I’d run a few miles on the treadmill, use the rowing machine for a few minutes, and stretch. But, eventually, I got bored of my constant routine and decided to branch out.
I learned about the workout classes that UREC offered for free and began to explore those. I tried a HIIT class one day. It was difficult, but I felt good afterward since HIIT is a combination of all different types of training: cardio, core, and strength. Now, I go to HIIT at least once every week.
Eventually, I also fell victim to the Stairmaster fad on TikTok—I tried it once after a treadmill run, but I ended up genuinely enjoying it! Now, when it’s not a HIIT day, I typically run on the treadmill, go on the Stairmaster, and then I do some core and lightweight training.
Branching out little by little in the gym over the past few months has been extremely beneficial to me. I’ve done things, which I guess you could call them gym side-quests, that I wouldn’t normally do. I’ve taken a cycle class, a power yoga class, and, most recently, a boxing class that I enjoyed so much that I’m trying to find another that fits into my schedule! I’ve also done a hike through UREC, and I’ve lifted weights a few times with a friend of mine.
While it’s true that I have enjoyed some of these things more than others, one thing is certain—I’ve learned the importance of branching out and trying new things.
I like to think of my journey in the gym as that of a butterfly effect. If I hadn’t gotten injured, I often wonder if I would have ever considered taking a HIIT class or lifting weights. From my injury, I forced myself to try new things, and from that, I learned how essential it is to do more than just cardio. It’s crazy to think that there was once a time when I didn’t care about getting stronger in other parts of my body. I was just focused on getting faster, which is likely where my injury came from.
A lot of people ask me for advice on how to get more motivated to go to the gym or branch out. Because of my unique situation, I often find that a difficult thing to answer. The reason that I started working out in the way that I do was due to unconventional circumstances.
Looking back, my injury felt like the worst thing that could have happened during my senior season. But in hindsight, it was a turning point—something that introduced me to a new world of fitness and growth. Through it, I learned that progress doesn’t always follow a straight path. Sometimes, setbacks can push you toward opportunities you’d never considered.
If you’re hesitant to step out of your comfort zone, remember that growth begins the moment you take that first step, however small. Whether it’s trying a new class, experimenting with weights, or simply showing up at the gym, every experience adds value. The journey to self-improvement isn’t just about physical strength; it’s about discovering what you’re capable of when you embrace change.
If my injury taught me anything, it’s that challenges can lead to transformation. Don’t let fear or doubt hold you back—lean into the unknown. You might just find a version of yourself that’s stronger, braver, and more resilient than you ever imagined.