My name is Delia McDade Clay, and I am a freshman on Siena College's Cross Country and Track team. Last summer, before attending my first cross country preseason at Siena, I hiked a high peak in the Adirondacks with my two best friends. The hike was eighteen miles and took us all day to complete. Looking down on the world below me from a 4,718-foot-high summit, I felt ready to take on the challenging year ahead.

Nine weeks before this trip, I was not climbing mountains. In fact, I was in Morgan Stanley Children's Hospital in New York City, about five and a half hours from my home, recovering from spinal fusion surgery. This was my second spinal fusion in just two and a half years. My sophomore year of high school, I had two rods and 23 screws fused and drilled into my spine to fix my 62-degree scoliosis curvature. The experience was as painful and difficult as it was formative. The hunch in my back was straightened, and I had grown three inches. Upon returning to school six weeks later, I found I had grown out of my life in some ways, too. That year, I hung up my soccer cleats for cross country spikes, and quickly fell in love with the grind that is long distance running. Through consistency and hard work, I eventually committed to run for Siena in December of my senior year. Life was truly good.

April of senior year, I attended a routine post-operative appointment for my back. After I told the doctor about all the amazing accomplishments the last year had brought, she showed me an X-Ray that made my heart drop to my stomach. Both rods were clearly broken, as well as a screw. A revision surgery was needed as soon as possible. I was told by the doctor that running might have contributed to the breakage, and that it might be wise to rethink distance running as a lifestyle.

I was beside myself. I needed to decide when I would get the surgery, and if running in college was still something I wanted to pursue. I knew the answers, of course, but everything in me was resisting them. Pain and struggle were inevitable if I went through with this, and I feared that if I said yes to them it would mean I was giving up. Once I named that fear, I realized that saying yes to the future was exactly what I needed to do to get through this. So, I started saying yes more in my life. Ice cream became a regular indulgence, and I laughed and cried nearly every day. I told people how much they meant to me. I posted whatever I wanted to on my social media and spoke my mind with less fear. I even broke my strict sleep schedule to hang out with friends. To my surprise, I was still crushing my workouts and winning races. However uncertain tomorrow was, I was learning the value of accepting and appreciating the present.

My parents scheduled a consultation and then an operation for me in New York City with one of the best pediatric orthopedic surgeons in the nation. Dr. Vitale restored my hope in my identity as a runner, assuring me that I would be running for the rest of my life. After a successful operation, I recovered in a room overlooking the Armory Track and Field Center, a historic venue in the running world. I had a brand-new pair of rods, 26 new screws, and faith that if I continued to show up for my life, running would show up for me.

I started the recovery process in June, began running in July and made it to Siena for preseason camp that August. In my first seven months at Siena, I have made great strides in my physical and mental strength. More importantly, I have made friendships with teammates that will last far beyond the next four years. Though challenging, being a Saint has brought me more happiness than I ever thought possible. In February, I had the privilege of putting on a Siena uniform to race for my team on the Armory Track at MAAC Championships. Running warm up laps around the very hospital in which I practiced walking nine months prior, I felt immense gratitude. This absolutely insane journey had twisted and turned until it ended up in the same place it began. I am exactly where I need to be, I realized, as I ran laps around a track with my Siena family cheering me on.

There is more strength than we think in saying "yes" to our lives. Traditionally, we think of strength as something to be held on to and protected, but what if in doing that we are saying "no" to our potential? Along with the rest of the world, the Siena athletics community is currently facing a lot more uncertainty and negativity each day. As our lives come to a complete halt because of the coronavirus, we feel alone in our missions and goals, and self-doubt is no doubt creeping in. Negativity and self-doubt are both part of being human, but part of being an athlete is naming them and then actively choosing to be bigger than them. Just as my surgeries have bettered me, this experience will make us all better at the sports we love and the lives we lead. I challenge each of you to say yes more in your lives as they twist and turn- if you do, you may begin to appreciate parts of your lives that once seemed insignificant. It won't be easy, but it will be worth it.

There are moments as athletes in which we stand on the edge of what we know and what we don't. Now, with life and sport having been put on hold, I find myself on one of those edges. Nothing is certain, and yet so much excites me. I cannot wait to be back on campus, studying, running, laughing, crying and achieving things with my friends, teammates, coaches and professors. Until that moment arrives, I will be putting one foot in front of the other, heading into the beautiful unknown, willing to be made better by the world.