The Final Post...Season

Does life get faster every year or is that some kind of weird illusion? I'm going to go with it really does because this past year was gone in a flash. It's almost 2015 which is just unacceptable.

Well folks, soccer is over. More likely than not, for good. My body is so physically done it's ridiculous but if I could i would kick that stupid ball forever.

This last week has been remarkably difficult. I mean I knew I was obsessed but COME ON. When the final whistle blew I had this indescribable feeling of complete and utter sadness and even shock. It wasn't like they won at the last second or anything I think I was just shocked that it all was truly over.

That was my last game. That was my last time getting my ankles taped to attach them to my body, That was my last time getting a needle shot into my butt just so I could hopefully not suck that much, that was the last time I'd ever put my #18 Toledo jersey on. It hurt to take it off. I almost didn't shower before a 6 hour bus ride home because I didn't want to take it off. Eventually someone shoved me into the shower and you're welcome teammates.

It was such a blur yet there was an overwhelming sense of terrifying clarity that came along with "the end." It was time for me to do something else. It was time for me to love something else, try something else, concentrate on something other than soccer.

Everything I have done in my life was working towards soccer. Get good grades so I could miss school and play in a tournament, go to olympic development camps to be seen, look dumb practicing by myself everyday. Everything in my life has also been a result of what I did soccerwise. Almost all of my friends I have come to know through soccer. I know people all over the country (and some internationals... hey Colombians) because of soccer. I wouldn't have been able to afford school had it not been for soccer.

Soccer was so give and take, it was my longest relationship, and this has been an ugly breakup. This past week I have drank too many adult beverages, eaten too much chocolate, Taco Bell, icecream, cried to sad songs, written in my diary, written this blog post, and done everything girls typically do when they get broken up with. (atleast according to the movies)

There's a freaking DVD called "For Love of the Game" next to my bed for goodness sake!

Describe yourself in one word:

Pathetic.

Whenever I sit and reflect I realize that soccer holds most of my happiest memories. To think that I can't make memories through it anymore is scary but then I think of what's next. It's unknown so that's a little frightening but it's also completely up to me. I'm not controlled by this sport that had me under a strict training/living regimen for the past 17 years of my life. Don't worry I'm not gonna go completely nuts because let's be honest, I'm pretty much already there.

With the waves of sadness I also get waves of hope. This life is such a gift and transitioning to a new phase has always been a difficult thing for me but I now have the friends, the lessons soccer taught me, and the mentality to do this. Whatever "this" is. I can do whatever I set my mind to and when I'm ready I'm confident I'll do hella cool things.

For now though, I kinda just want a bowl of icecream.

I can't thank my family, friends, teammates, coaches, trainers, or God enough for putting up with me throughout all of this journey. This is only the beginning.

first season 

last season

The Confessions of a Soccer-holic

I feel like a part of me is dying. No, no, I'm okay, don't call the cops. I'm being slightly dramatic but it's a scary time when everything familiar is about to end. I have been a soccer player for 17 years. When people ask what I do or what my job is, I always reply, simply, "soccer."

I'm the shrimp in the middle.

Recently this had led to a fury of questions painfully sprinting through my mind.

What are you supposed to do when that stops being the correct answer?
What are you supposed to do when you don't have an hour lift at 6 am and then two and half hours of therapy followed by an hour and a half class followed immediately by a three hour practice and then more training room time?

I'll actually have time and won't be too tired to do homework?! Woah. Gross.

What am I supposed to think about?

Dream about?
Worry about?
Talk about?

Does this mean I have to wear (gasp) JEANS?

What am I supposed to do?
I pose this question very seriously but know, at the same time, it's completely rhetorical. Nobody can answer this for me, and my fellow seniors are going through this internal debate as well. We've tried talking about "the end" a few times and have to stop whenever one of us starts getting teary-eyed.

Soccer has always been the future. Not only is it something I have always looked forward to each day, but it was always the next step in life. In elementary school, I went from rec to travel soccer, then in junior high it was about switching to the next best travel club, in high school it was all about going to the college showcases and being recruited, now in college some people think about playing professionally. That used to be a dream of mine until my bones decided they're vehemently against any more years of abuse.

Where does that leave me? Or, where does that lead me?
I did this to myself so I can't play the victim here. I fell in love with a game I knew would have to end one day. So dumb.

I went to a family wedding recently and cannot tell you how many times I got the typical, "So what are you going to do with your life when you're done with soccer?" "What about when you graduate?"

Shoot. Graduation. That's happening too. Okay, focus Lex, you got this.

When they asked, I'd smile, shrug, and say I'd think of something. Months later, the end of soccer approaching and still, I GOT NOTHIN'.

Well, I have to go now because I'm getting sad and my roommates said it's frowned upon to cry alone.

Cheers to another month of soccer and eventually the start of something new!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cu2oPPL8TWs

Where the Nose Goes

Let me jump right into it just like I did when I broke my nose last year during a soccer game. Typical. I jumped and hit my head on my own teammate so that was good. Division One soccer for ya. Anyway, I played the remainder of the season with a hideous Jason-look-alike mask. I couldn’t really see the ball so that went well for me.

I couldn’t breathe that well and I think the part that bothered me the most about my nose was the range of reactions I got from other people. Some would be like, “OH WOW, OH GOODNESS IT’S SO CROOKED!” And others would say something along the lines of, “Oh, it looks pretty similar to how it looked before.” ONE OF YOU IS LYING.

I had to wait until this season was over to get surgery on it and I think it went pretty well. Can’t be too sure cuz, ya know, I was asleep. However, I know for a fact I received a bucket load of anesthesia because I would not wake up. It was quite the struggle.

I told the recovery nurse Dennis, GREAT GUY, that I thought I was going to die if I had to get up to pee. He gave me a bedpan and I lived out my lifelong dream of using one. It was as miserable as I had imagined. I felt like an old lady and was so nervous with people coming in and out of my room that I decided I actually wanted to go to the bathroom as well. Mistake. I sprint/skidded across the room with Dennis trudging along behind me preparing to catch my flailing body. Alas, I made it there and back and, to Dennis' dismay, upon returning I decided I needed to lie down for about five more hours.

To give you insight to how long I was there, the nurses had a shift change. I can’t remember my first nurse’s name but Dennis was a very nice man. He gave me pain meds every time I asked! So competent! I appreciate that in a nurse. But maybe he was just trying to knock me out for the sake of his sanity. Who knows. Finally it came time for them to give me the boot because they needed the bed. I groggily changed and when I stood up I started getting nauseous so I sat down for probably another half hour. Sorry other patients, thank you for your patience. To show his displeasure with my laying back down, Dennis got my wheelchair and shoved it in my room to help me understand that this really was the end. As he was wheeling me out he discussed with me that I would be able to shower the next day. I told him not to worry about it I probably wouldn’t shower for a week. I think he giggled. Maybe he gagged. One can’t be too sure.

Recovery after that point that is pretty much a blur. Percocet does that to me. I had some visitors, I tried to eat but couldn’t, and I’m positive I had some really great conversations. I took a lot of photos to document my beauty. Don’t worry, I’ll attach a few of the good ones (all of them).

By the next week I already had my post-op appointment. The only one I thought I had. WRONG. My surgeon said, “See you next week to take out your splints.” I replied, “What happens if I’m in California next week?” He laughed and repeated, “See you next week.” I told him I wasn’t kidding and he kind of erupted a little bit.

He kind of reminded me of a condescending parent. “You didn’t plan this out very well!” ‘What were you thinking?!” “Were you thinking?” He glumly stated that he would try to phone his plastic surgeon friend in California to do it for me but he might not be able to. He then emphasized that I would probably not be able to find anyone to take them out while I’m in California and told me that I might get an infection (and die).  I’m just assuming he meant the last part as well.

But the guy really thinks I won’t be able to find anyone in LA to take out my nose splints? Half the people there have had the surgery themselves, I can see them walking up to me on the street being like, “Yeah, let me get those for ya!” and just ripping them out. Sounds…. Sanitary but hey a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do!

This is my baby nose’s first time flying and seeing my favorite state. I’m so excited I might just document some of the trip with hot nose selfies. You’re welcome.                                                           

first time flying

first time at the pool

              

                        first trip to the moon!

nose goes to LA

nose plays chess

nose goes to the beach