Personal Narrative: Lake Of The Woods Golf

A fresh breeze blew and ruffled the grass at the Lake of the Woods golf course in Mahomet, Illinois. The leaves fell from the trees and drifted amongst the wind. As I hauled the unopened tent towards my destination, there was lots of chatter, as well as some excitement, but no one spoke of the possibility of success in the monumental task ahead. We set up the tent and waited. We were awaiting the moment that we would go to where they had specified the activity to begin, the moment where most of the team would receive the opportunity to attempt the task we had been striving forward to achieve for the last few months. Except for me, I would be required to stay there just to cheer for those who participate, unless someone became injured to the
point where they could no longer move a muscle.
“Next year in eighth grade I will compete,” I kept telling myself.
However, I felt a strange excitement for the moments ahead as our team began to disperse, preparing for the second they would ask us to perform. The girls went first, racing ahead of each other like cars on the racetrack. Finally, the rest of the team goes to where they were destined to have an incredible run.
All these years I had taken my legs for granted, not knowing the power within them, or what they truly were to me.
I had always thought of them as tools, just pieces of pure muscle that exist to serve. They were always there to serve me and would try their absolute hardest to do so. Having no legs was out of the question. It wasn’t like I was participating in a fencing competition.
Sorting out my thoughts, I walked to my destination. One of my friends called out to me, “Hey Sai, you should probably go grab your running bib on, just in case.”
I thanked him and went on my way. I added the numbered bib to my cross country jersey and began to walk towards the start once again. I walked with my friend Sam, who was about to run. We commenced chatting about the race ahead. It was at that one point in time that everything slipped out of my grasp. It was in that split second that some divine being decided that I should suffer. I fell in silence. I believed it would be like in the movies, where time seems to pass slowly. But, if anything, time ran faster than a Mach 6 jet. I fell on my bottom and back. I began to sit up, and my left leg seemed to bend sideways. I struggled my way up, looked at my left ankle, and found that it had just curled into a very awkward angle, nothing even close to
usual.
“Are you alright!?!” Sam then asked wearing a look of concern.
“Yeah. I'm all right,” I replied.
I started to pick myself up, but as I placed weight on my left leg, pain shot through it.
Not only that, but something else seemed slightly off. I became slightly annoyed that my leg wouldn’t respond to me. After all, it was just a piece of muscle existing to serve me. I attempted to spin my ankle around in a circle. Lots of pain came into view, and it only appeared to twitch in some little circle. I looked back at Sam, and he is concerned, and not only about my injury. He was about to become absent to his upcoming race. He was necessitated to make a decision, and very quickly. Help me, and miss out on the race, or be able to compete, but in doing so leaving me there. He started to flip out, like a bull in an arena, but then came back to his senses, being his calm and relaxed
self.
“You should attempt to reach the tent because I’m about to miss the race. Alright, see you later,” Sam answered as he ran off into the distance.
I look at my point and try to calculate. About 30 feet from the tent, wet places, no walking or anything of the sort, and if my leg was dislocated or broken were the only things to come in mind when I was near the tree. I felt as helpless as a fish on land. I looked around and found the area where rotten pieces of fruit lay on the ground, the reason I had slipped. I tried different methods of transportation, including crawling, jumping on one leg, and pushing and pulling. I lay near the tent, trying to ease my pain. I tried to press and use other random methods to reduce the pain. Once it had eased, I attempted to stand once again, only to fall in pure agony and receive another dose of a smooth spray of droplets from the dew drops on the ground. I had nothing to do, more accurately nothing I could do. So I looked around. I watched the runners run gracefully on the wet, soaked ground. I started to think once my confusion had gone. I had taken my legs for granted for so long. I had never realized the power and the strength that legs have given to the human body. They were not just tools, but a piece of the body in cooperation. Never had I ever wanted more to stand up on my feet once again. Once the torturous time of me watching others who took both legs for granted and transported themselves wherever they found the most comfort was over, my parents took me to the doctor, and he explained that it was a slightly severe sprain and that I required a splint to aid me for about 3-4 weeks. Also, I couldn’t walk for two of the four weeks, so I used crutches.