For all of my life, sports have been my identity. From the four-year-old little girl who had her first tee ball game, to learning how to dribble a basketball, or picking up a volleyball for the first time, not knowing it would change her life forever. It was all more than just playing a sport, it was my routine, my identity, and the main part of who I was growing up. All the early mornings, the long practices, missed events, and hours on end spent trying to be the best player I could be was all part of chasing something bigger. But you are never prepared for what happens when a game that has defined much of your life ends and you take that jersey off for the last time. Who are you and what are you supposed to do now? 

From the beginning I was always an athletic kid growing up and surrounded by sports. I grew up playing three sports and living a very active lifestyle. I was always rushing from one practice to another trying to fit it all into one day. Sports consumed my life from a young age and due to the busy schedule that was demanded, there wasn't much time for other activities. The sacrifices began at a young age, and little did I know sports would only get more demanding. Growing up I never thought playing a sport in college was ever possible and was something I could only dream of. I played multiple sports growing up but when I played volleyball for the first time, there was just something different about the sport. The thrill of the game, the fast-paced style, and the team camaraderie around the sport was a feeling of no other. My love for the sport only grew more and more every time I played. 

I began playing club volleyball at a young age and started playing for a national team shortly after. The schedule only got more and more demanding, while I worked harder and harder to be better. I created the dream of playing Division I Volleyball completely unaware of the sacrifice and determination it would take to play at that level. But days turned into weeks, and into months, then years and eventually I was a sophomore starting my recruiting process. I was determined to play in college, so I was training harder than ever. Missing social events with friends, doing extra training sessions, working out constantly, and traveling to volleyball camps around the country to get my name out there. Finally, the day came and everything that I had worked so hard for was coming true, the dream was becoming a reality.

As my recruiting process progressed, I was searching for that perfect school that felt like a family and I could have a successful career there. I found my home at Rider University and could not have been more excited that this dream was my new reality. All the hard work, sacrifices, perseverance, and commitment was all worth it. The dream finally became true, but this was only the start. The sacrifices were only going to get more demanding and as a busy athlete you begin to forget who you are outside of the sport. The lifestyle consumes you and the pressure to perform can exhaust you at times. I was unaware that this feeling would only grow when I started my college athletics career. 

Every kid dreams of being great at their sport and once you achieve that dream you are demanded to be the best every day. But what happens when the demand changes your lifestyle, and the sport becomes the center of your life? You forget who you are because your identity is the sport, it absorbs every part of your life. Playing volleyball in college had been my dream for so many years, I changed my lifestyle to achieve this dream and forgot who I was as a person along the way. As I entered my college career, I was hungry for a starting spot as a freshman and with hard work I was able to make a generous contribution as a freshman. Over the years throughout my career my contribution only grew more, and I received conference awards my freshman and sophomore years having very successful seasons. 
 

That success continued into my junior year where I was succeeding on the court and in the classroom as well. I received MAAC All-Academic awards as well as having a successful year on the court. I helped my team advance to the conference championship but despite the loss, we had a very successful season and I did individually as well, ranking as one of the top blockers in the conference. This success is the dream that every athlete wants, but what does it do to you mentally? The pressure to perform constantly and be this "perfect" player can be draining for someone. At the end of the day, I am only a 20-year-old who is facing this huge responsibility to not only perform for her team, coaches, but for the 12-year-old girl who never thought she would have this opportunity with the pressure of never wanting to let her down. 

Throughout my college career so far, I was able to have success, but this came with a price like being far away from home, away from family, friends, and sacrificing my personal life for a program. Many will say, "Well you sign up for that when you decide to play a college sport." but others will not know the sacrifice it takes to do what we do on a daily basis. The late-night practices, early mornings, the pain your body feels during a brutal preseason, the time put into the classroom, the long road trips, film sessions, and so much more all while trying to just be a normal college student. There is nothing normal about being a Division I athlete. You are demanded to be great in every area, on the court, off the court, in the classroom and this expectation is just from your program. What about being a good partner, a good daughter, a sister, a friend? The pressure to be great in every aspect of life and find time for it all feels impossible at times and you sacrifice it all for the sport. You work to leave a legacy in a program, to be the greatest, while the person you are gets lost along the way. 

In my final year, I am still searching to find my identity without the jersey and sport. The unknown is scary, and, in a way, it feels like an identity crisis. Something that has consumed your life for so long is about to be over and the feeling of having no idea who you are without it is scary. We get so focused on making it to this level, we never think about what happens when it is over. I am proud to say that I will have a lasting legacy in this program, and I will be in the record books within this program but I am searching for who I will become without the jersey, without volleyball. As this sport has consumed all of my life for so long, I am curious to find my identity. I am a person, a friend, a partner, a sister and so much more. I want to find who Molly Rohde is without the jersey and realize that I am more than just an athlete.