Being a professional athlete was not part of my plan. Growing up, there were few reasons for young women like me to plan on playing soccer as a profession. I rarely saw women competing at that level, save the World Cup and the Olympics, which came around every few years. But I ended up being the first female athlete drafted to an American professional league in the history of my alma mater, Seattle University. It was unexplored territory. I finished my last collegiate game and walked off the field thinking it might be my last. Then, several months later, my name was announced during the 2015 NWSL draft, in Philadelphia. Before I knew it, I was on a plane to the East Coast to compete with eight other rookies for a single spot on the Boston Breakers.

Even after fighting to secure a professional contract, the experience was assumed to be fleeting. I had teammates in graduate school, starting their own businesses or otherwise planning lives outside of their professional athletic career. Me, I took the LSAT and applied for law school my first year in the league.

And that's where I am now, studying torts and reading case law and making plans for a future as a legal professional. But I stay close to the sport I love, as a coach for young women in the Seattle Reign Academy. It's a fascinating time to be a mentor to adolescent girls. U.S. women's soccer is ascendant; Megan Rapinoe is a national hero. Meanwhile, the #MeToo movement is reshaping the culture, and demands for gender equality have reached a historic fever pitch. While most of my players may not choose the professional life, they are growing up in a world different from the one I imagined when I was their age, or even five years ago.

Coach Stephanie Verdoia huddles with her girls soccer team Reign Academy, a U13 team, before running drills during practice at Cal Anderson park in Seattle on Oct. 23, 2019. (Dorothy Edwards/Crosscut)

But, still, choosing to dedicate a life to professional soccer is not as easy a decision as some may presume. The paychecks, health care and structured training exist only during the playing season. When the season ends, so does everything else. During my first two seasons, I did not feel like one of the top 200 female soccer players in the United States; I felt like a part-time seasonal worker. In the off-season, I would move home to Utah, or live with friends in Seattle, trying to find cheap ways to maintain fitness, train at a high level and avoid getting injured.