Isabel Parker

t’s hard to start writing a story that isn’t finished yet. Even though I am less than two months away from my college graduation, I feel like I am in the midst of my injury journey. It’s easier to tell a story of resilience and perseverance in hindsight, when the unknowns are known and the future is not in question. It is more difficult to name my struggles and fears when they are still active in me, and my vulnerabilities are not in the past. My name is Isabel Parker, and I am a senior on the Villanova Women’s Rowing team. My rowing journey started when I walked onto the team my freshman year. I had been a competitive runner for seven years, and decided to walk onto rowing because I wanted to be on a team in college. I was immediately drawn to every aspect of the sport and the team. I loved the early wakeups, the slightly masochistic attitude necessary for success, and the idea of contributing to something bigger than myself while representing my school. I took to the sport quickly, and had a successful freshman year, which ended with winning the novice MVP award. I felt confidence in myself as an athlete that I had not felt in high school as a runner, and I entirely believed that this was something that I could be successful at.
Over the course of the next three years, I have suffered two fractured ribs and undergone two shoulder surgeries. The details surrounding these injuries are complex and lengthy, but the important message is that they were hard and took a significant physical and mental toll on my body. For each injury, I completely committed myself to rehab, maintained fitness via cross training, and did my best to maintain my connection to the team in different ways. I also consistently met with our sports psychologist and worked to confront the frustration and mental difficulties I was experiencing. Even though it felt like I was trying as hard as I could, it seemed like obstacles kept popping up that prevented me from taking steps forward. As time went on, I felt less able to rely on my success from freshman year. Who cares about a rower who might have initially done well, if she cannot remain healthy for the next three years? I felt like I was getting left behind, and I convinced myself that my (lack of) value on the team was solely a reflection of my inability to contribute on the water.
I developed anxiety, felt depressed, and struggled with extremely low self esteem. I threw myself into my schoolwork because I thought that getting a 4.0 semester after semester would show everyone that I was still a person of value. But even as I was excelling in the classroom, my mental health was not improving. I wanted to row so badly, and I also hated myself for it because I had barely had one year of experience. Who was I to care about a sport that I barely knew? The majority of people in my life were telling me to quit the team, that it wasn’t worth it, and I would be better off without it. I remained so stubborn in my desire to come back because I needed to prove to myself that I could persevere. My obsession with coming back from each injury consumed me, and it wasn’t until I was in the hospital for my second shoulder surgery in February 2022 that I fully accepted that I would never race in conference, and I would only participate in two races beyond my freshman year. I believed that I could be one of those comeback stories that exemplifies what it means to showcase resilience no matter what. Even though this comeback story has not followed the trajectory I envisioned, I am learning that resiliency is not only measured by external successes.
Even through my struggles, I believed that there had to be some sort of meaning to this experience. I still haven’t found that meaning entirely, and I don’t know if I will for a while. However, there is opportunity in struggle, and that is what I have chosen to embrace during my last semester at Villanova. To smile in the face of adversity, seek humor in the difficulties, and find other ways to be part of my team is a role I have worked hard to accept. I am not yet at the point where I can look back and clearly identify why this experience was necessary for me. I know that I have grown and become a more empathetic and resilient person. But I am still in the midst of wishing things had been different, and I think that is okay. My support system is strong, but I have learned that there is no external support or validation which will be more impactful than my own willingness to confront my feelings and work through the difficulties. I have learned that it is okay to be sad, it’s okay to be angry, and it’s also okay to care deeply about something in a magnitude for which other people do not understand. There are a lot of aspects of my injury journey that I cannot control. However, the hardest and most important lesson I have learned thus far is that life can seem hard and unfair, but the burden of responsibility lies on me to respond in a way that reflects who I want to be as a teammate, friend, and person. I have rarely been truly proud of myself since my freshman year. However, if I can look back on these four years and know that I fully and authentically embraced the cards I have been dealt with grace, I know that I will be proud of myself. My struggles have transformed the way that I treat myself (now with more compassion), handle adversity (now with more strength), and celebrate the accomplishments of my teammates (now irrespective of my own experiences).