by C. J. Lau
Chapter 19
“Cat, why have you stopped running?” I ask myself.
I’ve never been worried by the cold winter mornings. Sure, it’s a lot warmer in Perth, but this is home and I’m not scared of it. All I do is check how much ice is on the ground, maybe put on some gloves before I go out for my run.
So, even though I’m hunched over, studying my tights through foggy breath, the cold can’t be the reason I’ve suddenly stopped.
I still remember the words of the physio here in town. Not as bouncy as my England one, but just as committed. “Take it easy and stick to our plan,” she said.
After months of excruciating work I’m to the point where I can run freely. First at 10 minutes of sustained jogging. Now at 20 minutes. Next, I’ll alternate periods of sprints into my jogs, building up my legs and cardio distance.
“Stick to the plan Cat! Get moving,” I tell myself, though no one can hear me on this deserted, icy field.
It’s all planned out for me. Once I’ve got strength and fitness, I’ll move into interval training, longer sprints, changes of direction, and hockey drills. My long road back to the National squad mapped out in detail. Broken into small manageable steps.
But something feels wrong. Very wrong.
“Come on, Cat,” I plead aloud to my legs. Unexpected tears threatening. “Let’s go!”
Last night was a bad one. Nightmares again, waking frequently, desperately missing Trisha. Bottling my tears, not wanting to disturb Carol and Maggie. Part of me ashamed I can’t get over the accident.
Thoughts of Trisha’s last moments drift back into my mind sometimes. Moments that stop me dead in my tracks. Like now.
Do you even want to go back to Perth?
My old University Coach, Professor Addison, tracked me down. The phone call echoing in my mind: Let me know if you need a new career after playing. I’d love to have you back in Wollongong.
I politely declined him. Have unfinished business in Wollongong, but going back to Uni not on my mind.
At 25; there’s many more years of elite Hockey still in me. And the team’s going through a rebuilding phase. Can I use my international experience to guide the new arrivals? Secure a spot next to Jeanette in the leadership group? Do they mean it, saying a spot waits for me—once I make it back? Prove to everyone I’ll handle the responsibility of leading?
But going back means good-bye to Maggie. Carol and Sam. My parents. Leaving everyone who’s kept me alive. Replacing them with an incredibly demanding program that expects 100% commitment to my country.
Slinky sent back my sticks, and a few other things out of my old Perth apartment. Saved me a flight with that bloody compression stocking. But the few sessions I’ve spent on the field were disasters.
My stick, once a natural extension of my body, now feels foreign. The guard around my knee making my movements bulky and slow. Shooting and passing doesn’t come naturally. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to belong there. Forget leadership, in my current form I won’t even make the squad.
“Walk it off, Cat,” I lower my expectations, and my voice. “Don’t stand still in this bloody park.”
My legs cooperate this time, walking me towards home. I’m not happy with myself, but at least I’m moving.
The pondering continues. Won’t leave me alone.
Even if I get my game back, beat out the budding 18-year-olds vying for spots, I know I’m forever changed. Will never be the same person who boarded the plane with Slinky and the touring party.
Surgery will do wonders for my confidence. Therapy already has. But a little part of me is always in England, trapped in a smouldering crater, watching the life drain from Trisha’s face.
“You don’t want it anymore, do you?” I ask myself the hard question because no one else dares.
The flights, the press, the training, and the hard work that goes with being a top-class athlete. A life leaving no time for friends like Maggie.
I scare myself. Answering my question. Motivation’s always been the easiest thing for me to find. But now it’s gone.
What would I be without hockey? What could I become if I never played again?
The questions send a wave of blackness into my chest. Catches my breath in my throat. I double over and sit down quickly. Put my head in my hands and focus on breathing. Warm tears soaking into cold gloves. Need a full minute to gather myself.
Maybe I just need a good yelling at.
Kathy will know what to do. I start to walk home, even though I still have the energy to run. I’ll give Kathy a call and she’ll shout me back into action. Like she’s done so many times before.
Can I get back to the plan then?