Lyon vs Chelsea - Izzy Christiansen interview: 'Sometimes being tough is knowing when to ask for help'

England were en route to a seismic victory against Japan in the SheBelieves Cup when Izzy Christiansen felt the sudden pain bite in sharp currents from her knee down to her ankle, causing her to let out the scream which stopped her teammates in their tracks. Immediately rushed into the medical room at Raymond James Stadium in Tampa in fits of tears, the physios soon confirmed her worst fears and informed her that she had fractured her fibula and damaged ligaments in her ankle.

“The first thing I thought was that my World Cup dream was over,” Christiansen says at the end of another day of extensive rehab at St George’s Park. “Everyone tried to calm me down, but I was just in hysterics. I was in a state, sitting on the bed with my ankle on ice, watching the rest of the game on the TV. I just remember tears, pain and shock.”

Nearly six weeks since undergoing surgery, Christiansen arrives at England’s training centre at 7:30am each morning to complete a meticulous rehab programme, including single-leg workouts, anti-gravity treadmills and deep-water running. Once she returns home, she’ll rest the ankle in an ice-machine into the evening’s long hours.

The injury brought a devastating end to her debut season with Lyon, although Christiansen hopes flying to the Groupama Stadium to watch her teammates take on Chelsea in the first leg of their Champions League semi-final can bring some light to her metronomic routine.

Life with the French champions has come fast and with twisting fortunes. The club's streak of dominance is unmatched at the elite echelon of any sport, having won 12 league titles, eight domestic cups and five Champions Leagues in the last 15 years. And, at first, Christiansen, the 2016 player of the year when at Manchester City, fed off that aura and enjoyed an electric start, cementing her place in a team featuring seven Ballon D’Or nominees.

“They’re the best team in the world," she says. "The atmosphere at Lyon is completely different [to in England]. The level, quality and speed of the play in training, the expectation is different. The first four months I was flying, I was doing well and playing a lot.

But once the honeymoon wore off and the homesickness started to creep in, the foreign nature of it all began to take hold. “The hardest part was being away from home. At times, I’m probably overly ambitious. You’re moving quickly, you’re moving house, language, training is different and everything started to catch up with me. It’s hard to put into words how different it is.

“[Moving to Lyon] taught me to ask for help, instead of trying to do everything on my own. Sport can take you in different ways. I can't take people to dark, dark places and it’s lonely at times. I read stories of famous athletes who’ve been at their lowest and their performance drops and their world comes crashing down. I don’t think people understand how hard it is sometimes when your life revolves around an inflatable ball….Sometimes, being mentally tough is asking for help, instead of not asking.”

It’s the inevitable dwellings of a professional athlete who is idling in time but simultaneously racing against it. A situation which moves painfully slowly, but for the sake of her ankle one she dares not wish speed up.

Christiansen thanks her close friends and family for their support as well as the warmth and humility of her teammates at Lyon. The team’s talismanic captain Wendie Renard - “a powerful leader” - regularly messages her via WhatsApp, while Ada Hegerberg and Eugénie Le Sommer have shown that they “are not just amazing players, but amazing people.” Dzsenifer Marozsán, Christiansen says disbelievingly, “is one of the most humble people I have ever met, yet she can do absolutely anything with a football.”

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She has also noted the added layer of respect with which the team are treated as such an elite and pioneering force in women's football. Lyon's male and female sides train alongside one another on parallel pitches, they eat lunch in the same dining room and speak every day, and there is an “organic respect in how our family functioning works”.

That "role model" is very much a detached reality from the gruelling sweat and petrol of Christiansen’s own climb. As an 18-year-old playing for Birmingham City, the Macclesfield-born teen juggled day and night shifts at a local restaurant with 8pm training sessions and the race back down the A38 to get home before midnight; the last of a generation who had to tackle such steep slopes to become a professional.

“Those days are gone now but I wouldn’t ever change them for the world," she says. "They meant everything and got me to where I am today. My parents, and I know I’m not the only one, they sacrificed so much time, effort, petrol money so I could chase a dream. Now, young girls are playing in academies and they can chase a dream that does exist, but back then we didn’t have that dream.”

For now, though, there is only one thought that occupies Christiansen's every waking minute; to ice her ankle until she can sprint her way back in time for the World Cup.