I’m going to blog about something else, because I feel like it.
We’re coming up on 11 months since I tore a ligament in my lower back. Three weeks after it happened I dragged my pale and throbbing body to my GP’s office and – with a totally straight face – asked her if I could run the Toronto Marathon 5 weeks later.
oh, the lols.
I’m glad I didn’t know at the time that this was going to drag on for a year. I’m glad I don’t know now how long this is really going to drag on for.
The best I could do was pour myself into swimming and spend all winter rebuilding a injury-dismantled freestyle. Finally, by May or June I was put back together enough that I knew I could keep up for the 2013 outdoor season. Everything was wrong with my stroke and it was excruciatingly annoying and painful to rebuild something that had once come to me as naturally as breathing. I lost flexibility in my neck. My hips hurt too much to muster a useful kick. My shoulders started to hurt because they were working too hard. Too wrong, really. It sucked. Sometimes pool water and tear water would mix together in my goggles.
The pain comes and goes without much algorithm. It lives in my hips now, and sometimes my wrist, or knee, or right ankle. It depends on what it feels like doing, I guess. I deserve a fickle injury, I suppose.
Then came a day or few days when I forgot I was injured at all. Where, if I just stayed in the pool, and didn’t run or stretch or bike uphill too much, I forgot all about the whole damned mess.
Then there was today. I went to yoga. Fickle brain here just decided that this should happen on top of 40km of biking and a full sprint work out with my swimming friends. Meh. Anyway. Yoga. Right. I used to be one of those Spandexed Creatures. I loved it. I was palms flat on the floor, head on my knees, Gumby styled, bendy strong creature.
Today’s session was a super chill basics class at the gym and it destroyed me anew. Reminded me that 11 months may as well be 11 days and that my back is still off doing its back injury thing. I hated it. But because I’m wired the way I’m wired, immediately made it my near singular mission in life to once again fold myself in half and put my palms flat on the ground. Wish me luck!