Gaby sat on the cold bench outside the locker room, her legs stretched out in front of her, cleats unlaced, and her head tilted back against the wall. She had just finished an intense two-hour soccer practice, and her muscles ached in places she didn’t even know could ache. Her gray Kentucky training hoodie was damp with sweat, and her ponytail clung to the back of her neck.

Her phone buzzed next to her. A reminder: Volleyball practice – 5 mins. She stared at it like it was mocking her.

“Bro,” she muttered to herself, rubbing her face with both hands. “I can’t. I actually can’t today.”

She had always prided herself on being an all-around athlete—soccer, volleyball, football, flag football—she dominated them all. But the toll of back-to-back practices was finally starting to wear her down. And now, if she skipped volleyball even once, she knew Coach would bench her—or worse, kick her off the team. That was the rule.

Her younger brother Jake texted her at that exact moment: “You dead yet? 😂”

She cracked a tiny smile and replied: “Emotionally, yes.”

Just then, one of the volleyball captains walked by and gave her a quick, “You coming?”

Gaby hesitated. Her body screamed no. Her scholarship brain screamed yes. And in the middle of it all, she whispered under her breath, “I don’t even know how I’m still standing.”

But then she stood. Slow and sore, but she stood. Because Gaby Rourke didn’t back down—even when her legs felt like concrete.