A Pop and a Twist by Katherine

A Pop and a Twist by Katherine - February 2017 Scholarship Essay

In. Out. Breathe. Sync your steps. Make your tempo. Start! Run faster. Build! 32 inches, 28, 20. Continue to build. Fly! Perfect! A landing, but with a twist. Then a pop.
“What sport do you play? What athletic activities do you do?” These questions haunted me from the day I began the public school system. All through elementary school, students’ popularity was measured by their athletic activities. Even minuscule sports, like gymnastics, were considered a popularity factor. I was none of that. I was the renowned teacher's pet- a person that everyone made fun of because I was not popular. A flash forward to ninth grade would turn my world around a complete one hundred eighty degrees.
Everyone says that a person will “find themselves” in high school. I think I understand what they mean now. High school is a crazy place where people never leave like they started. The jock is pushed to the bench because now there is someone better. I had convinced my best friend to join color guard for the marching band with me and we both made it. However, that year started to form a wedge between us. I stayed the nerd. She decided that she did not particularly want a nerd as a friend anymore. The long conversations became a “hi” every now and then. I was lonely for a long time, so I decided to become someone that was popular. I wanted to change because I felt I was being left behind. I wanted to be an athlete.
I found my niche in January of my 9th grade year. My English teacher was the coach for the track team. She had no pole vaulters for the 9th grade. She came to me and asked if I would join. I was apprehensive at first, but she wanted me to at least try it. I went out to practice one day and with the help of my dad learned some basics. After many practices I realized that pole vaulting was something that gave me wings. I could be free when I was flying over the bar. It gave me a joy I had never had before. I finished in second and third in every competition. I was so glad to receive such high places when I just started that year. I knew that pole vaulting was my calling.
I finished my ninth grade track season with flying colors, and I was ready for the next year. However, I was devastated to learn that I could not do track my sophomore year. My schedule was fully packed. During concert season for the band, I would gaze out windows, searching for the pole vaulting mat. As much as I wanted to, I could not go. I ended sophomore year without setting a foot on the track. I thought I would never be able to do track again.
My junior year came, and I was the drum major for the marching band. However, I no longer felt that marching band was where I needed to be. Every day I thought about track. I thought hard about how I would be able to have that joyous feeling again. The wind, the flight, what could amount to something that let me feel so free. After learning that my school schedule would not be affected, I joined track. The countdown to track season began. I could not wait to fly once again.
It felt like a lifetime before I could jump again, but it was finally time. My first jump of the season was great. I was happy to feel the mat once again. A week into practice I told my dad that I wanted to dominate this season. I went to tryout for spot with a specialized pole-vaulting coach because many of his vaulters were very successful in college. The coach was very impressed with me. I was overjoyed. This was something I wanted more than anything. After a long tryout I got ready for my last jump. I spoke to myself, “In. Out. Breathe. Sync your steps. Make your tempo. Start! Run faster. Build! 32 inches, 28, 20. Continue to build. Fly! Perfect!” A landing, but with a twist. Then a pop.
The next thing I remembered was trying to hold back the tears, but they streamed down my face while I clutched my ankle. “Please don’t let this be the end. I want to vault. Please, please!” I said like a broken record. The diagnosis was a class three sprain that I could not walk on for over a month. After that month passed, the physical therapy started, but the pain would not subside. I soon learned the cause: bone bruising. My season ended before it really even began.
I was overjoyed when I got my second chance to pole vault; however this experience made me realize that not all second chances show someone something they will want to pursue all through life. I thought that pole vaulting was something that I would continue for a long time, but I realized this was not what I truly wanted to do. Although flying through the air is an appealing idea, I do not need to fly to be who I am. I can see more of the world and better discover who I am meant to be if I have my feet planted firmly on the ground.