15 minutes

December 9th, 2023 was the last time I played soccer. Since COVID, when I no longer could play with others for a long stretch, I’ve often had the same conversation before going to play about how thankful I am that I get to go out there, how quickly it could all change, and how I still want to lace up my cleats. Usually, I’d play for 2-2.5 hours but I dipped out early after 90 minutes when I felt how tight my calves were. Megan Rapinoe had just ripped her achilles and I wasn’t in the business of getting (another) serious injury. I bought new cleats upon realizing how old mine were (13 years). Somehow I had missed how tattered and worn they had become. I still haven’t had the chance to play in them.

In January, I herniated two discs in my back after helping a friend move and had to decide when calling the orthopedic office which ailment I wanted an appointment for, a false choice I realize now I shouldn’t have had to make. The day after day of heavy lifting, more days than I had anticipated, took its toll and my back won out in priority. Months passed of intense PT, massage, eventually weekly decompression machine sessions, on and on. I mostly forgot about my calves, starting to stretch here and there. My back began to heal just in time for me to remember my achilles, the dual pain on both sides. I remember going to FL in April and ecstatically going to the gym again, ignoring the achilles pain that started to flare as I furiously did the stair master. Big mistake. Big sigh.

End of May I was officially diagnosed with achilles tendinosis and began another long recovery that I’m still on, filled with flare ups, daily exercises, massage, on and on. I cursed myself for not advocating better back in January for two appointments from the same office rather than letting myself be pushed into a “pick one” situation.

This last week at PT, my new PT said I could dribble for 15 minutes, slowly and carefully. I perked up. When I noticed she had a soccer ball there, I made her watch me dribble, partially just because I wanted to feel the ball at my feet as soon as possible and partially because I did not trust myself to not overdo it.

“What about this? Can I do this? Is this too fast?”

I sped around the room instantly. She told me to go slower but that yes. I could do all of this. For 15 minutes. Slowly and carefully. Later that day, I pushed myself on a 24 mile ride with a pal and then took a few days to rest. Today, I carefully pulled my long socks from the bottom of my bin and packed my new cleats in with my newly pumped up pink soccer ball only to drive to the nearby soccer field to see a game underway. I was too shy to go to a park–something I felt after my ACL recovery when I had to run the straightaways of a track. It’s vulnerable to recover.

I drove back a bit defeated and told myself I’d just dribble in my apartment until I parked and realized the underground basement at my apartment would be the perfect backup plan. I dribbled slowly, going in and out of light jogging. I practiced classic dribbling drills. I wore my new running shoes, my second pair since May, and promised my new cleats I’d take them out for an adventure soon. Neighbors came to get their car during it and I pretended to fiddle with mine until they left, pausing my timer as soon as I heard them. I wasn’t going to lose a single second of the 15 minutes.