Kat Palaia: Not an All-American

I wasn’t an All-American. I never made all conference, all district, or any of those fancy categories that dictate if you had a stellar athletic career or not. I didn’t finish my college career with record-breaking stats. Not the ones you would think of anyway. 

My stat sheet looked a little something like this: rehab an ACL injury and come back only to get a stress fracture…benched. Rehab my stress fracture to find out I tore my labrum…benched. Come back for my final season to tear my meniscus and sprain my MCL…benched (kind of). 

For four years, I “put in the work,” as people say. Physically, mentally, and emotionally, I grinded day in and day out, hoping to find at least one moment to encompass everything I put myself through. Finding out that my last season of lacrosse would be on the sidelines was not something I wanted, but it was my reality, and if there was one thing I learned, it’s that you can’t run from it. So, I made a choice…to run towards it. To run towards whatever chance I had in playing a game for my last season. 

Rehab was tough. But this time, I learned to enjoy the process. I understood that the hard days were inevitable and would always come, but that was okay because they never lasted more than 24 hours anyway. 

I had many days of questioning where I went wrong in my life. Questioning why I was put in such a position. I had goals and dreams that I wanted to accomplish. Days and months when I felt like nothing but a failure. I struggled with finding a purpose and a reason to keep going. 

It would have been easy for me to focus on the negatives, and there were many days that I did. But that became hard to do when I had the support system that I did. When one person believes in you, your battles don’t seem as hard. But when you have a village of people who believe in you, there is no war you can’t win. Lucky for me, I had a village. And they taught me that I can still have goals and dreams to accomplish as long as I change them to meet my reality. 

My reality was that I knew I was never going to be an All-American. I wasn’t going to have earth-shattering stats. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try. That I wasn’t going to give my all in every facet of my life. And I knew that if I fell and landed smack on my face, it was okay because someone I love would always be there to pick me up. 

Looking back on my four years, I can say that I didn’t expect any of it. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But if someone happens to stumble across this article and you are in a similar situation in life, I just want to let you know that everything turns out just fine. It turns out better than you imagined. As long as you choose to stay in the fight. 

Despite all odds, I was able to play the last game of my college career. I walked off that field knowing that I gave it everything I had. The best part was that my “village” was there to see me do it. Because without them, it wouldn’t have been possible at all. 

So yeah, I didn’t have record-breaking stats and a stellar athletic career, but I had a “village”. A village of people who supported me through every setback. Who picked me up after every fall. Who wiped my tears when I was having a bad day. Who walked me out on my senior day. Who were proud to see a girl with a genuine smile on her face after years of fighting battles. 

I had many heartbreaks and failures that took my breath away, but they were the ones that reminded me to breathe. I wouldn’t be who I am now without them, and I am grateful every day that I got to be a part of their lives because, in return, I have a life of my own. One that I, am proud of. One that I look forward to living. One that I wouldn’t change. 

I stumbled upon a quote before the season started, and it goes as follows: 

“You don’t have to stand on the beam, my friend. But if you do, just be you. And when you fall, you’re still great; flawed and all.” 

Lacrosse was my balance beam. I stood on it a lot. Stiff muscled and all. I didn’t have to, but I did. I liked the challenge. The idea of emptying the tank. I wasn’t me sometimes. I wasn’t authentic, and it caught on. I fell off a lot. Sometimes with just a scratch and other times when a band-aid wouldn’t fix it. During those times, I would sit and watch it from a distance until I got the chance to stand on it again. Sometimes I didn’t believe I was great. Sometimes I only saw myself as flawed. 

It made me angry. It made me cry. It made me happy. It made me proud. It became the only thing I focused on. The only thing that mattered. I would try again and again, feeling confused as to what I was doing wrong, which wouldn’t allow me to stand and try. It was everything to me. I thought I was giving it everything. Until I realized that it wasn’t asking for everything. It didn’t need everything. It just needed me to be me. 

It needed me to be an example. It needed me to be a leader. That is when a person was forgotten, I can show them their value. That if I wanted to be the best, I didn’t have to act like the best. I needed to be the best for me. 

It made me value my relationships. That it didn’t matter how old a person was or what they went through. They can change your life if you let them. 

The little things? The moments that lasted a second. They weren’t so little after all. They shaped me. Made me who I am today. They gave me the courage to keep trying. To eventually stand on that balance beam and be great, flawed and all. That I wouldn’t forget. If anything, it gave me the perspective to look down and see everything and everyone that allowed me to stand in the first place. 

I stood on that balance beam. I was me. I fe;l a lot. But I’m still great, flawed and all.