Because they know what they are talking about.
Really.
They do.
So once upon a time, a caliboy decided it would be fun to go roller-skating with his friends.
This same caliboy then fell.
Hard.
And it really hurt.
Then there was surgery, narcotics, and physical therapy.
The physical therapy came with all the fixings: big squishy balls, elastic straps of varying strengths, hot towels, cold packs, and a myriad of interesting electrical shocks.
Conversations go something like this…
“So, how are you feeling today?”
“Fine. I mean it hurts a bit, or whatever. Can I walk now”
“Not until the Surgeon gives the o.k.”
“Right”
“But that should be pretty soon. Things seem to be healing well”
“ya. So how long until, you know, I can run, jump, play? Basically do things other than get shocked and pull on elastic”
::chuckles nervously::
“Well running… Did you run before this happened?”
“Yup. Not for a while, but I really was looking forward to going out on the (insert job that didn’t happen), and they have lots of space and tracks to run and a couple of gym’s.”
“It’s going to take a lot more physical therapy to get this leg ready to take the kind of shock load that running exerts.”
“Oh. Like, how much longer?”
“Probably another 9-12 months.”
“Oh. Well my health insurance runs out in about a month.”
“wow…really?”
And so it goes.
I went to the gym tonight thinking I could prove him wrong. I was going to take my 3 months of physical therapy, my “perfectly-fine-and-capable-of-anything” left leg, and my thick-headed determination and I was going to run.
And it worked.
For about 5 minutes.
Up until the point that the grindy, poppy, numbing, then really painful sensation became too much to ignore.
And I walked.
I walked for an hour, out of spite.
But you can bet, come Friday I am going to rock the hell out of that elliptical machine. And I might even do the one with weird handles that move with every step.
Just to step it up a notch.
But hey, here’s to finding your limits.
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4 comments:
Maybe you should stick to drumming on the walls for exercise. At least that doesn't require any exertion from your left leg.
On the bright side, the more running you do the more opportunities there are for me to call you "Gimpy."
"grinding and popping". . . ew!
:)
Oh, Mike ... The night of the caliboy fall started with such great moments.
The whiskey.
Fergalicious.
The success of my dance move.
The chugging of beer.
And finally the skating.
But I was grateful for your insights and I have recently grown comfortable with acknowledging my limits as well. Cripples unite!
broke
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