I still remember the feelings whirling around in the gym. Nerves and excitement flooded the room. We wanted this win. We craved the victory.

The warm-ups were over, the National Anthem was sung, and the meet had begun. Stick after stick—success after success. My teammates competed, as anxiety swept through my body. It was almost my time. My time to show off all that I worked for. My time to give back to the team. Bringing the team down terrified me. Thirty seconds, and it would all be over. Thirty seconds of concentration. Thirty seconds to prove to everyone what I could do. I wanted this win. I craved the victory.

For months, I practiced this routine. It was perfect. I was sure of it. My name was called out; my time had come. I stepped into the spotlight and saluted the judges. Washing out everything around me, I let my body and mind come together as one. There would be no distractions from my routine. The team needed me to perform well. We wanted this win. We craved the victory.

My life changed in those thirty seconds. How could it happen so quickly? Everything was fine earlier. I wonder how different things would be without that day. Without those thirty seconds. “Where would I be now?” runs through my head.

Ulcerative Colitis. A disease in my colon. No one can explain it. Not even the doctors. “He has a plan,” is all I ever hear. I hate that. There has to be another reason. Did I do something wrong to deserve this? Maybe it was just meant to be; maybe it changed me for the better.