One Week In: After the Pop

An ACL Journal

It’s been exactly one week since I completely tore my ACL.
To be honest, I didn’t know what an ACL was a week ago.

I know the exact moment it happened. You know those moments when something occurs and you immediately sense its weight, when you think this is going to matter. Not in the day-to-day way, but in the way that quietly changes the trajectory. The kind of moment where you realize things won’t be the same.

That moment was the pop.

At the time, I didn’t know what the trajectory looked like. I was relieved it wasn’t a break. Seven days later, I wish it were.

Smiling through the disappointment, I kept moving through what had suddenly become routine. X-rays, an MRI, and a meeting with an orthopedic surgeon. What I thought would be “phew, just a torn ligament” quickly turned into something much heavier. A complete identity wobble. Suddenly, I was staring down what felt like a year-long journey full of unknowns. I found myself contemplating choices I didn’t know existed. Surgical versus non-surgical. They call the non-surgical route “copers.”

I started hearing a whole new language. Prehab. Physical therapy. Year-long rehab. Specialized ACL surgeons. Grafts and the different types of grafts that would best fit my lifestyle. Pivot and rotation were no longer options for that leg. Words like mental game, identity loss, grief, logistics, crutches, bruising, inflammation, pain, screws, cadaver.

Choosing the right surgeon.
Routine interruption.
Crying through smiling.
Lying awake at night, wishing I could go back to the top of the mountain and make a different choice.

Why didn’t my skis pop off?

Anger.
Jealousy.
Self-pity.
Guilt for the self-pity.
FOMO.
Longing to get back on skis.
Longing that this mental game didn’t have to begin.

And still, saying “I’m fine” when I don’t feel fine at all.

I feel uplifted and regretful. Grateful in the grand scheme of things. Mentally challenged by decision-making. I feel loss. I feel grief.

I find myself searching for ACL journeys on Instagram. Listening to ACL podcasts. Learning about prehab, surgery, timelines, phases, exercises per phase, and expectations of movement. I think about how this affects my kids, my workday, and my personal life.

I think about my New Year’s resolution.
It was simple and sincere. To be the best athlete I could be.

I wrote out what that meant. Fitness goals. Consistency. Progress. I was working toward a handstand by the end of the year. I hit a headstand faster than I expected.

This isn’t a post about inspiration or silver linings.
It’s just a place to write the truth and watch it unfold.

This is not a comeback story.
This is a learning story.

Here’s where it begins.

I fell skiing on a really, really fun day. I remember tumbling longer than expected. I felt the pop. Ski patrol took me down the mountain in a yellow bag on a sled. I had an X-ray. I found a physical therapist who specializes in working with athletes with serious recovery goals. I had an MRI. I learned I had a complete ACL tear and a bone contusion.

I read the report myself at work.

I timelined the process alone.

With collaboration and trust in my physical therapist, I continued working out safely. Limited swelling. No pain. No ACL. The workout was approved, so I did it. I’m doing it. Pilates, power yoga, lifting, and Peloton. I went to the gym for leg day and did hip thrusts at the Smith machine while tears streamed down my face the entire time.

I met with my first surgeon. I researched others. I scheduled two more consultations with highly recommended orthopedic surgeons who specialize in ACL reconstruction. I learned you don’t grow back an ACL or reconnect what’s torn. You add one back in. A few different ways. All of which sounds scary and made me a little squeamish.

For now, this is a simple record.

Of listening.
Of building trust.
Of learning how to be strong in ways I didn’t train for.

One leg at a time.
One honest entry at a time.

🌅 Hanging By a Sunrise