Sunday was a bad day. But on the flight back to Arizona from New Orleans I was reminded that I was well equipped for what was to come after breaking my leg, a season-ending injury (technically, I fractured my fibula, but it hurts—a lot).

I haven’t watched film yet, but from what I can remember two 300+ pound guys fell on it and bent it in a way that it wasn’t supposed to go. I told you this sport is dangerous, but like I said, my pain is voluntary.

It’s been surprising to learn that the hardest part about having a broken fibula is putting shorts on. Taking showers is probably next, though I’ve been avoiding the shower because of the anticipated “fear of falling.”

Despite everything, I couldn’t be more thankful for the family and friends I have around me.

When I got back to Phoenix, my friend Max picked me up and basically took care of me that night. I woke up the next morning and my friends Jeff, Mike, and Criselda brought me breakfast, spent time with me, and helped me get stuff done around the house.

My friend Mary picked up my parents from the airport, and once they arrived, they immediately sat by my side, talking and praying with me. Simply having them with me during this time is what’s most important.

You can’t beat family and you can’t beat friends—real friends. I don’t know what I would do without you guys.