Victory: A Posture, Not a Place

“Victory,” he yelled as I held my hands high for the photo.

I was victorious, I guess, but it felt like something different when it was over.

A year and a half ago on a hike I suffered an unexpected injury – a complete ACL tear. It was a fluke incident. Pretty uneventful actually. No cool story or epic tale to tell.

What was a pretty epic story was the spiritual journey the injury took me on, and what happened when I had the chance to face my fears and do this same hike again.

When the injury happened we were 2 miles in. We were scrambling across some boulders in a creek. I was standing on a boulder and needed to forcefully hoist myself up to a boulder on my right. As I made that lateral move I heard and felt a big “pop” in my knee. I steadied myself, confused. I didn’t feel much pain so I thought maybe my kneecap just went out of joint and back in. But as I made a few more steps to solid ground on the beach landing I knew something was wrong.

We sat on that beach landing for a long time trying to determine how serious the injury was. Trying to decide if we should finish the hike or turn back. My husband, being the smart man he is, told me it was up to me (while he was secretly praying I would surrender my ego and make the smart choice to turn back…he told me later).

Although I was pretty determined to push through the discomfort and finish the hike, there was a quieter and smaller voice telling me to reconsider. With a few more walk arounds I determined it may be something serious (and I wasn’t as young and spry as I used to be) so we should probably turn back.

Disappointed, frustrated, and a little scared, I hiked back out the 2 miles we’d come. Honestly, I don’t remember much of it. Only that at one point I was so uncomfortable my husband suggested I take my shirt off and tie it as tight as I could around my knee. We went slow and just kept going. He let out a big sigh of relief as we made our way to flat ground and within eyeshot of the bus to take us back.

We went to the local drugstore to get a brace, went home to ice, then went out for dinner that night. The next day our plane was departing for home. We got back, I enjoyed a surprise 40th birthday party in my new brace (one of the best days of my life!), saw a specialist the following week, and scheduled surgery.

I wrote about my post-surgery recovery journey and how it changed me in a blog called Soft & Strong: The Depth Created by Dependence.

What I want to share here is what happened when I learned I would have chance to go back to this same hiking spot and cross the same creek bed where I was injured.

Most people told me I was crazy for thinking about trying that hike again. I get it. I did wonder if it was just my ego talking. A desire to conquer what I felt like had conquered me. I am competitive so I suppose there was a little of that. But as I sat with it and prayed about it, I knew there was also a deeper lesson.

You should also know that in August of 2025 I hit a plateau in my ACL reconstruction healing journey. My physical therapist and I had tried everything and she suggested I try a sports psychologist to support the healing.

I am a regular when it comes to therapy and other healing modalities, so I was very open to the suggestion and looking forward to what I could learn during the experience.

My journey with this sports psychologist and therapist as been incredible. First, she helped me realize that I was trying to “check the healing box” instead of leaning into the healing process. Much like we try to do with relationships, leadership, and other achievements, I had become so focused on the outcome and trying to skip to the end that I was actually inhibiting the healing, growth, and development needed to get to that outcome.

One example: since this happened, I had been speaking positively to and over my knee. Instead of using the language “injured” knee I would use the word “healing” knee. Yes, this sounds a little woo-woo but look up the science between the brain and body connection. It’s legitimate. What she pointed out was that all these conversations had been one-sided. I was speaking to my knee but I wasn’t allowing my knee to speak to me. “What does it have to say to you?” she asked.

It felt a little strange, but in the privacy of her office I put my hand on my knee, shut my eyes, and asked what it had to say to me. After some silence, I very clearly heard, “If I am healed, will you still put me first?”

I had a hard time saying that out loud to her, but when I did, I felt a flood of emotion wash over me. I realized that my injury had given me an excuse to allow my own needs and desires to exist in my decision making…maybe for the first time in my life in a real way.

I could spend hours on this subject but will simply say that I am continuing to be with this revelation and the work to come to a more aligned and authentic place: what does each situation or choice look like if I were to consider what the other person wants and what I want? This has been an unexpected level of healing – physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

What was super wild was that in her office as we were addressing this question and concern, I could literally feel my knee and the ligaments and muscles around it relax.

The inner and outer work on healing continued and as the days drew closer to this hike, I could feel my nerves kicking up. I began to dream about the hike and think about it frequently throughout the day.

I strategically scheduled another therapy session about a week before the hike. As we were talking things out and she was challenging my thinking like any good therapist would, I exasperatedly said, “I guess what I’m asking is how do I know that I didn’t do anything wrong? How do I know I have done enough to prevent this from happening again?”

She sat back in her chair with that little smile that tells me we are onto something good. I continued and boiled it down to a simple, broader question I have been asking all my life: “How do I know I have done enough?”

That question was about WAY MORE than just my injury and the upcoming hike. I won’t go into all that here but you can expect to hear more about that too in a future blog post!

She reflected back to me that the question I was asking was impossible to answer. She challenged me to consider that what I was still holding onto was control. Then she spoke a simple sentence that shifted something in me, “Real control is the understanding that you have none.”

Pow! I intellectually understand that, but continue to create thought patterns that allow me to find some sense of control vs. surrendering it completely. That realization freed me to see that this experience was different than last time and I should enjoy it as such.

Yes it was the same place, but everything else was different. How often do we do that? Project what has been on what will be in a destructive way? Ramp up our own fears and concerns in ways that keep us trapped in unproductive worry?

On the day of the hike, I was surprisingly calm. I had given myself permission to allow whatever was to happen to happen. I gave myself permission to turn around anytime I wanted to…and to want to successfully cross those boulders aka the scene of the crime, and go the other 2 miles to see the waterfall.

We were off, and the hour-long hike in was pretty quiet. As we got closer to “the spot” I could feel the anxiousness building inside me. We got to the creek and the boulders. We were watching others cross and looking at all our options to stay out of the water or go through it.

I was overcome with emotions. Anxiety, fear, anger, sadness, and many others I am continuing to name. They flooded in. I chose to sit down and tune in to regulate my breathing – take a break or time out – to be with these emotions instead of pushing through, shutting them down, or being frustrated by their presence.

My husband asked me what I wanted to do. I saw a couple people pretty easily forging through the creek, while others were nervously and unsteadily trying to find a path across the boulders. I had the appropriate footwear, so instead of being a hero to keep my feet dry, I decided I was going to walk through the water.

As I took a step, the fear and feelings were still very present. I didn’t really want to do this, and I definitely didn’t want to do it on my own, but knew I had to. While my husband was there to support and encourage, it was my path to walk.

We both made it across and sat down on the other side. I expected to feel a high of happiness and excitement, but what I felt was deeper. Calmer. More full. More lasting. Almost like I felt the healing complete itself inside me in a very quiet and nuanced way.

I guess maybe that’s what true victory feels like…the kind that sticks to your bones and changes you.

I lost the desire to go the other 2 miles to the waterfall. I didn’t need it anymore. There was nothing to conquer, there was just something to be honored.

This experience sitting on that beach landing unlocked a new sense of appreciation for myself, for life, and for meaning in everyday moments that I am hopeful to stay open to.

What really amazed and inspired me was the hike back out. I had hiked those 2 treacherous miles with a completely torn ACL. “How in the world did I do this?” I just kept repeating this question as we made our way back.

All this time I thought it was the injury, the incident that changed me. But it was me…more specifically God in me who changed me.

My reaction to what happened – the grit and grace I allowed to coexist as I cared for myself coming down that mountain.

My willingness to be changed – not to shrug this off or hold it at surface level but to search for meaning, to learn, to grow.

My desire to grow in faith – reading into it but not too much, parsing apart what was mine and what wasn’t, and allowing it to be what it was.

My decision to surrender – accepting that real control is knowing I don’t have any and being willing to show up anyway.

Healed and healing. Knowing and learning. Free and surrendering.

Victory as a posture, not a place.

A posture of the heart and the mind – open, loving, accepting.