I’ve always been an athlete, ever since the days when tangy, sticky orange slices served as the pinnacle of my simple existence — the vehicle by which our parents eased our hearts in the midst of defeat and celebrated our talents in the face of victory — though they always tasted a lot sweeter after a win. I marvel at the powers of the vitamin C-packed snack.

Simply put, sports were my life, and for almost 21.5 million other American kids between the ages of six and 17, sports became a piece of their own lives as well. It wasn’t just a game — it was a source of pride. Playing made me feel invincible. It gave me a sense of identity.

So, like many young, college-bound ingenues, I hoped to bring that part of myself to the first day of the next four years of my life. And I did just that, by joining Binghamton University’s club soccer team. In my first game, when I stepped out onto that field for the first time, it just felt right. In a new college world where everyone was just trying to find their place, I finally felt like I had found mine.

Until my second game.

POP!

The sound of my worst fears piercing my heart with the painful truth as I lay on the turf, clutching my knee. The one that every athlete dreads. The fear of imperfection changing their entire future over the course of one second. And I wished more than anything that I could take it all back.

But I couldn’t. It broke me.

Playing sports or other related activities is responsible for 49.3 percent of knee injuries. But even with so many enduring the same hardship as I was, I felt so incredibly alone. I would find out days later that I tore my meniscus, inviting a surgery, physical therapy and a six-month recovery into my life.

It was certainly not how I expected the first semester of my college career to begin. I tried to close my eyes and fall asleep at any free moment just to escape what my life had become. And without sports, I didn’t know who I was. I was lost. Like a broken toy collecting dust. And the fearless person that I had spent my whole life being was gone. Just the thought of playing sports again paralyzed me. It was enough to make me want to quit and play chess for the rest of my life. Sadness. Frustration. Fear. The emotions that should come with a sports injury warning label.

While I can’t speak for everyone, in my case, physical therapy (PT) was my first real glimpse of a silver lining. One that was so important to me that it may as well have been made of gold. My experience at PT gave me a chance to see that I had let the injury define my life. I felt like a lesser version of who I was before, when really, I had an opportunity. An opportunity, instead of becoming my injury, to become my recovery. To take what little control I had in the form of heel slides and leg lifts and build something new — to fix myself and work toward a better tomorrow every day.

Don’t get me wrong, an injury is not something I’d wish on anyone. But for me, it’s five months later and I’m letting myself feel OK again. I’m walking around. I’m back at the gym, looking forward to being able to run again. And while I feel like I’m getting my life back, this experience has given me more than just that. I got to know myself outside of the realms of an athlete and within those of a human being. And I’m not the only one. Athletes claim that the experience has allowed them to learn about themselves, increase their mental toughness and even improve their social functioning in the long run.

I got to channel all of my energy into other facets of my life — some of which I didn’t even know existed before having this time to explore them. I got to rediscover my love of writing and spend time with my family as we continued our saga of watching all the Marvel movies. I found it very hard to be upset about anything when the love of my life, Chris Evans, was on screen. Cap, you have my heart. Even small wins, like using crutches to and from the local deli with my brother, became my way of making my life my own again.

Life is a lot bigger than sports — a notion that I would have disregarded in the past with a conceited shoulder shrug and a laugh. At a time in my life when I was tested more than I’ve ever been, I can honestly say that I’ve gained an invaluable perspective that I wouldn’t have otherwise known. One that values improvement more than perfection. One that was gratified when I took my first steps two months after the surgery. One that values the orange slice, no matter the outcome.

All of my potential tomorrows have built the present moment that I’m living in right now — one where I’m excited by the prospect of playing sports again and even more excited for how far I’ve come. I am finally acknowledging my strength and persistence, finding out who I am outside of sports and appreciating the little things. That’s the bright side.

Julia O’Reilly is a freshman majoring in biology.