She put too much time and energy into college sports, preventing her from befriending classmates or studying abroad. She injured herself for life.
Courtesy of Tyler Hopfauf
I love sports. If you give me a ball and an open field, I'll play for hours. Give me wings and a TV with a game, that's all I need.
My love for sports started when I was young, and I developed my passion as a high school jock. I decided to continue that passion in college when I enrolled in a Division III school. There, I played both soccer and track and field.
But I didn't love my time playing sports in college. In fact, I wish I hadn't played in college at all.
On my first day of soccer preseason my freshman year, I was nervous my new team would eat me for lunch. But once we scrimmaged, I discovered I was among the best players. I hadn't expected it.
I thought playing in college meant playing at a higher level of competition than I ever had, but some players on my team would have ridden the bench at my high school.
I chalked up the level of play to Division III, but I at least thought if the play wasn't as competitive as I had hoped, the team would be more committed since we were actively choosing to continue our athletic careers. But there was never any intensity in our drills or fire in our practices.
On my team, soccer felt more like an unwanted activity than a conscious commitment. We couldn't even keep people from quitting throughout the season.
As captain of the soccer and track and field teams — which finished poorly in the conference standings — I felt I had to do something to improve us.
And I tried, but the truth is I tried too hard and gave too much to my teams. That means I didn't study abroad in college because I played sports every semester. I didn't make deep friendships with people in my classes because I had a schedule that didn't allow it. I didn't even party the way I should have. I sacrificed my last chance just to be a kid trying new things and meeting new people because I was too worried about giving my best to a college athletic department that wasn't giving its best to me. I wish I understood that leading my peers wasn't my responsibility.
I spent half my nights in college lying wide awake, replaying practice repeatedly in my head. My worries were never about soccer or track. Instead, I agonized over intense personal dynamics that I was too young and inexperienced to navigate.
Naively, I thought all of this would lead to a better job. But in the corporate world, no one cared about my leadership experience of captaining two college teams. Once I became a manager at a Fortune 500 company, I was dogged by the turbulence and failure I had experienced as a college athlete and struggled to find the confidence to lead a team in the real world.
Because I felt a responsibility to improve our teams, I physically pushed myself too hard. During my freshman soccer season, I played every minute of every game and took nearly all our free kicks.
I had pain, but I played through it. I ended up with an overuse injury that nearly ended my athletic career, cost me my sophomore year of soccer and track, and caused me to take toxic amounts of ibuprofen.
After graduation, I never got to compete in the triathlons I always imagined I would because my injury still flares up. I've had to pick hiking over marathons. I've chosen running with my kids over playing in adult soccer leagues. I've found a way to have an active life, but not a pain-free one, and I never will.
As a mom, I don't know exactly what I would tell my daughters if either one of them said they wanted to play in college. I probably would tell them about my experiences and allow them to make an educated choice.
I know there is more than one way to keep playing, and it doesn't have to be at the collegiate level. Local adult leagues, even semi-pro could have been a better option for me, and someday may be a better option for my children.
Either way, playing in college is an experience, but mine cost more than it should.
